System Crash
by FMAvatard
Summary: Alfred F. Jones has lost the most important part of his life. M for language, adult themes, and dramatic elements
1. Awake

Hello, Taylor here. Just a heads up, this story's gonna be a bit different from my others. I plan to make multiple chapters, updates will come every few days. I can't guarantee a set schedule, as inspiration to write strikes at different times. For me...the dead of the night. Like now. XD

Thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

_Dear Arthur,_

_You are the light of my life._

_Every moment I spend with you fills my heart with joy._

_The sun shines down with happiness when you're near me._

_...I'm not really good with poems like you are, so I'll just talk normally. Sorry, you know me._

_Arthur, you're the the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. I trust you with my life, my love, and my soul. I've wanted to be with you since day one, but I was always scared that you would change your mind. That I was too big of an idiot or an imbecile for you. You're amazing, and intelligent, and beautiful...and I'm just me. Why you've staid with me this long confuses me, but I'm grateful for every minute._

_These roses are for you. After two years of living with and loving you, I want to ask you something. Meet me in the backyard._

_With All the Love in the World,_

_Alfred F. Jones_

. . .

The writer of the note watched tentatively as it's recipient scanned over it. The chair he was sitting stiffly in was uncomfortable. Hospital standards weren't the best when they weren't for patients. Arthur's bed, however, looked quite cozy. Alfred had ensured his fiancé had received the very best treatment and care.

It had been three months since he'd proposed to his boyfriend of three years, Arthur Kirkland.

It had been one week since the car accident that had left Alfred, the driver, with a few scratches.

The man in front of him suffered a concussion that very nearly became a coma.

"...this was in your house? I found it there?"

"Yeah..."

"What happened then?"

"You came out to the backyard, and...and I was in a suit, and...there were more roses...and I asked you to marry me."

"...and what did I say?"

Alfred swallowed hard, realizing that it hadn't worked. The note hadn't jogged Arthur's memory in the slightest. A deep pain welled in his chest, and his eyes stung.

"You...y-you said yes. And then you told me not to cry, even though you were, too, and-"

He refused to look away from Arthur, knowing if he did, he'd probably break down right there. Alfred watched as his lover stared at him blankly, sympathetically. The patient's eyes went from his visitor to the note.

"...I'm gay?"

"...yeah. I guess that's the word..."

"...God..."

Alfred could feel his heart breaking with every word coming from Arthur's mouth. He didn't believe any of this. He didn't believe Alfred. He didn't believe the note. Nothing.

Alfred supposed he wouldn't believe it either. But how would he know?

"Alfred, I...from the looks of it, you seem like a decent person. And...and I suppose you aren't hard to look at, but-"

"Please don't."

Arthur was interrupted by a choked sob from the man in the chair. He had taken off his glasses and covered his eyes, a ring on his left hand. The man in the bed should be wearing one that matched, but surgical procedures had required all jewelry to be removed. Where it was in the hospital, Alfred didn't know.

"Please don't do this to me...why...?"

He wasn't quite certain as to who he was talking to...himself? Arthur? God?

"Alfred, please don't cry...if you start, I don't know what I'll do."

The quiet request was what sent Alfred over the edge. That quiet request, almost exactly repeated from their engagement.

"_Darling, don't cry. If you cry, I'll cry, and I won't know what to do_."

"...may I ask you a question?"

Alfred looked up, rubbing at his reddening eyes.

"Yeah, anything you want."

The urge to use a pet name was almost undeniable; it wouldn't make sense to, though. Not now. Alfred looked to his former boyfriend, watching him shift in the sheets. Was he nervous?

"...did I...um, that is...have...did _we_ ever...?"

Alfred watched the blush come to Arthur's face. That same old blush he'd come to love over the last three years.

"...no. We were going to wait until our wedding night."

A lie. The two had had _quite_ the healthy sex life. Arthur had many kinks and quirks, and Alfred had come to love all of them. However, after the less than enthusiastic response to being told he was gay...Alfred just couldn't do that to him. What if it scarred him? Or hated Alfred for it?

"We live together?"

"Yes. For two years. We've been together for three."

Arthur stared at him for awhile, then lay back on the bed, taking the ceiling into focus.

"...then...it's alright if I stay with you? At least until...wait."

He bolted up, a look of fear in his eyes.

"Does my family know?"

Alfred felt another ice-cold spear stab his chest.

"...I asked your dad if I could have his blessing. I knew you were all about traditional stuff, so...I went traditional. They know. You introduced me to them a long time ago. Christmas."

Arthur's tension dropped, as did his body back to the mattress. Alfred watched him for awhile, feeling more alone than he'd ever been in his life, despite the fact the love of his life was less then four feet away.

"May I have a moment or two? I need to think."

"Of course. I-"

Alfred stopped himself before "I love you" came tumbling out. A phrase that was so natural to him it was almost as simple to say as it was to breathe. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat before leaving the hospital room.

Even through the door, he could hear the most awful sound in the world.

Arthur was crying.

. . .

"And that's the last of it. Here you are, Mr. Kirkland."

The nurse handed a box to Arthur, who was standing at the front desk of the hospital, Alfred by his side. In the box was a striped shirt, pants, and a golden wedding band, the latter of which was the first one he picked up. Alfred watched him examine it, missing the engraving on the inside as he placed it back in the box. He smiled politely at the nurse, taking the box with a 'Thank you for everything.' Alfred resisted the urge to put his arm around him as they walked out of the hospital, the sunlight blinding the former patient.

He couldn't take his eyes off the items in the box. The last time he'd seen that shirt, it had been nearly soaked in blood, along with the pants. The last time he'd seen that ring, it had been on Arthur's finger. Alfred had held his partner's hand all the way to the the emergency room, right until the moment they wheeled him through the double doors.

...why couldn't it have been him?

"Are you alright?"

Alfred snapped out of his daze, smiling down at Arthur.

"Yeah. The car's this way. We'll get you home."

Arthur nodded, following after the tall blonde, who was fighting tears as they walked.

"Ah...hey, this...this ring...I'm guessing it's-"

"Yeah."

_Please. Please, no more talking._

Any minute now, Alfred would be the one waking up in the hospital bed from a coma. Arthur would be by his side, trying not to cry as he called him lazy for sleeping so long. It would be his way of coping. Alfred would laugh tiredly, and then they would kiss. He would be released from the hospital, and they would go on planning their wedding. They would get married, and buy that golden retriever they'd been talking about...maybe even adopt a kid.

All he had to do was wake up from this nightmare first.

"...I'm sorry, Alfred."

Alfred turned around, flashing a smile. The best acting he'd ever done.

"What're you sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong."

"...I don't know..."

The two were silent the whole car ride home. Arthur was silent as he observed the house, and Alfred remained silent as he watched him, desperately hoping for some sort of trigger. There was nothing but confusion and blank expressions. All the photos around the house, vacations and friend's parties, all memories that were now only remembered by one of two.

"I think I'm going to rest up a bit."

"Of course. I'm...I'm kinda hungry. Do you want anything?"

"No thank you."

"Got it. Alright...well...night."

_I love you._

_I love you so much._

Alfred bit back tears, making his way to the kitchen.

"Alfred?"

He turned immediately. It had sounded perfectly normal, domestic. Arthur even appeared normal, as if he were about to ask Alfred something about a book, or how to work an appliance.

"Thank you for letting me stay here...I won't be a burden, though. I'll only stay until I can find a place of my own."

"...yeah. Okay. Don't worry about."

_But you belong here._

"Goodnight, Arthur."

"Goodnight."

And he slipped off into the guest bedroom. Just a simple goodnight. No added 'darling'...'dear'...'love.' No kiss. No embrace. Just a politely awkward smile like one would give an unexpected guest.

Alfred sat in the living room, looking at the ring upon his finger. He gazed at the cold metal for a long while, letting the tears fall from his eyes.

"...you're not coming back."


	2. Living In the Past

The sunlight made it very evident that Alfred was alone in his bed. The space beside him was empty, made up nicely. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stared at the mattress.

"...morning."

He yawned, shifting out of the bed with several creaks and joint-pops. Some breakfast was in order; he'd hardly eaten anything yesterday, and for good reason. Everything might've come back up in the end.

After making his way to the door and down the hall, Alfred stood like a statue, his heart racing in his chest.

Arthur was in the kitchen. Something that ordinarily would've made his heart plummet was currently the greatest event in the universe. He was in the kitchen, humming lightly over some hellish creation that was he was easing around with a spatula. Alfred even recognized the tune...oh God, it _had_ been a dream. There hadn't even been an accident, had there?

He grinned, moving towards Arthur with every intention to sweep him up and kiss him on the spot. Arthur would be loved every second of his life, never underappreciated. Hell, if it made him feel better, Alfred would let him cook _every_ _damn day_. What was a little food poisoning?

"Arthur?"

His partner jumped, startled as he turned to Alfred with a smile.

"Oh, you're up. Hope you don't mind, I took the reigns in here. I felt like after everything you needed some rest."

Alfred's grin turned to a soft smile. He was going to hug him right now and never let go. Life was too short.

"I've rested up plenty, ba-"

"I mean, I just figured it wouldn't be good if I were lazing around like a freeloader, so I...oh, wait."

The spatula came up in a gesture of nerves. Arthur's brow crinkled, knowing he'd misspoken.

"I didn't mean that _you_ were lazing around, it's your house, you can...I mean...ah...shit."

The smile melted off Alfred's face quicker than ice in hell, which he might as well have been in.

...nothing had changed.

"...n-nah, dude, you're not...don't worry about that, you're welcome here. As long as you want."

Alfred rubbed his eyes hard. 'Sleep,' he told himself, patting Arthur's back lightly.

"I'd hate to be a burden, though."

"You're my guest. And you're cooking. That's all I could ask for you...you like cooking."

Arthur looked at him for awhile, trying to hide a smile by turning to the pan with what Alfred assumed used to be eggs in it.

"I do. I'm not that good with it, but...hey. Nowhere to go but up, right?"

He turned, flashing his grin at Alfred. Alfred smiled right back, wishing that this would just stop.

The two made idle conversation as they ate. Every now and again, Arthur would ask a question about their life together, and Alfred would be glad to answer, if not just a bit hurt. Arthur would nod, sometimes question Alfred, and others flat-out deny him. Alfred would back up himself up with photos.

The American got up and went to the coffee table, where a photo of the two in front of Big Ben had rested for about seven months. The snow had been falling gently on the Christmas Eve it had been taken, and the two were bunched together from the cold. Alfred had managed to kiss Arthur's cheek just as the shutter went off. Arthur had laughed in the exact moment, having already wrapped his arms around his partner.

It was Alfred's favorite picture.

He brought it over to the dining room, setting it gently on the table. It was a response to the denial that Arthur hadn't taken him to meet his parents.

"This was the day before. We'd just had dinner, and we asked one of the locals to take our picture. The next day I met your family."

Arthur snatched up the frame, looking over it with incredulity. The happy faces, the setting, the fact this was clearly the two of them in London. Not even Photoshop was this good. And there again, what would Alfred even have to gain from it? He looked up from the photograph to Alfred.

Alfred kept a straight face and nodded as Arthur spoke.

"I'm sorry, Alfred...I don't know what to-"

"You don't have to say anything, it's cool. Just...ya know, it happened."

"I suppose you're right about that...um...you don't mind if I call them, do you?"

"It's your family. You don't need _my_ permission."

Alfred chuckled, which prompted Arthur to laugh right back. He covered his mouth with his hand to hide the noise, looking up at Alfred.

"Sorry. I have the worst laugh anyone could ask for. Well, I'm going to go talk to them. Thank you."

Alfred nodded, watching him go to the phone in the next room. That laugh was the same. That light, carefree sound he loved so much. Beautiful music. He didn't quite eavesdrop on the conversation happening, more of overheard.

"Yes, I feel fine...how are you and Dad?"

. . .

"That's good. Ah...I...I wanted to ask you something. Do you know anyone named Alfred?"

. . .

"...really?"

. . .

"Well yes, he seems nice and all, but-"

. . .

"...he did? Dad was..."

. . .

"...alright then. Thank you, Mum. I love you, too."

. . .

Another quiet laugh.

"Yes, I'll call again soon, I promise. Yes. Alright. Bye."

Alfred sat, wondering what had been said about him. Maybe he ought to give them a call, too. The laughing, the blushing, the cooking, all the mannerisms were there. People didn't just lose memories, right? They...they were just locked away. There was a key somewhere, it was just hidden.

Arthur was still in there.

And now he was in here, back at the table with his former fiancé.

"They...well, they said they really liked you, and...I should, too. That you're a good man. And I should trust you."

Alfred nodded, feeling like he'd gotten up a step.

"Yeah. You...you trusted me. You trust me, I mean. I trust you, too."

Arthur kept his eyes on the table, twiddling his thumbs.

"...I really don't know how to talk to you, Alfred. I believe my parents, and I want to believe you, but...I just don't know. This is a lot to take take in."

"I understand."

"I mean...we were dating? _Engaged_? I mean...I can understand that...I've felt...things for other men before, but I've never _acted_ on them. How did we even-?"

"Your friend Kiku set us up. Or, not set us up, he's how we met. We were at a bar, I'd never met the guy. He forgot his wallet, and I ran out and returned it to him. He kept talking something crazy about eternal gratitude and stuff, and he invited me to next time with his friends, his treat. That was three years ago, and...we'll, you're one of his friends. We talked, and...hit it off, I guess."

Arthur was smiling at the woodwork, chuckling lightly.

"That certainly sounds like Kiku..."

He looked up to Alfred, eyes shining with sympathy again.

"...we were engaged."

"...yeah."

It sounded more like acceptance than a question.

"I don't understand how, though. I mean...look at you. You could probably have any woman...or...man you want. Why the hell would you want me?"

"_Alfred, I don't see why you'd want to settle for me. You're handsome, and kind, and...look, why would you want to go out with me? Quit joking around, stupid."_

And then Alfred had insisted that he wasn't joking, that Arthur was perfect in every way, and that Alfred didnt know how fortunate he was to know someone like him. Then he told him he loved him for the first time.

That was two years ago. It had wiped off the slate, too.

"...look, how 'bout this. You're my guest. You shouldn't be busting yourself up by cooking and cleaning and stuff. You just got out of the hospital. I'd...how about we go out tonight? Not a date!"

He added the last part when Arthur looked at him skeptically.

"Just...two friends, going out for a drink. I'd like to think of you as my friend, Arthur."

It was after several long eternities that Arthur spoke again, softly.

"...I'd like that. Alright."

He sent a small smile over the table.

"Thank you, Alfred."

"It's no trouble at all."

"...so...we're friends?"

"Only if you want to be."

Alfred watched Arthur's smile fade as he contemplated.

"...I still need some time to think. I'm sorry."

"Of course. We've got all the time in the world."

At least, Alfred did. He would wait as long it took. Forever, if necessary. He wasn't going to give up on Arthur. What kind of partner would he be if he just abandoned him like this? No. He would stay. He would stay, and wait, and surely...surely something would happen.

Alfred loved Arthur more than life itself.

If that meant he'd had to give up his old life for him, than so be it.


	3. Left On the Rocks

"Have I been here before?"

"Yeah. It's your favorite."

"No, my favorite is Sampson's Pub."

"...right."

That night three years ago had been Arthur's first visit to this bar. Alfred had nearly forgotten. Just how far did this go back, exactly? Nevertheless, the somber blonde patted his partner's shoulder as they walked in from the sticky July air, the name 'Shale's' blazing in neon over the door.

Arthur looked around. The lights and people...the atmosphere. It all seemed friendly. He turned to Alfred, who was watching him expectantly. It set the Brit on edge just a tad.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nah, just...welcome to Shale's. Pick a table. I'll get drinks."

"Thank you, but I don't know the...oh...well...I-I guess you would know what I'd want...wouldn't you?"

Alfred smiled quietly.

"I'll be right back."

He left Arthur to find a table as he went to get their drinks. The blonde looked around, thinking hard. This place seemed great. Nice spacing, not too crowded...but wait. This wasn't one of _those_ bars, was it?

Although, maybe that wouldn't have been terrible...Arthur wasn't homophobic, but...

Oh, who even cared! Alfred has asked him to find a table, not hit on people. Arthur moved over to the side, finding a nice place over in the corner. Out of the way, private. Cozy, almost. He sat down, still searching the bar. He fiddled with the napkin dispenser, not quite sure how to conduct himself at the time being.

"Are you here by yourself?"

Arthur looked up, locking eyes with a a young blonde. Striking eyes, a deep violet...or was it indigo? He'd never seen anything like them before. Or had he? Damn it, he just didn't know anymore.

"Ah...no, I'm with someone. I mean, not _with_ someone, but...I'm not..."

_Just two friends going out for a drink._

"Forgive me if this sounds strange, but do I know you?"

The blonde smiled, taking the seat in front of him.

"You could. If you wanted, of course."

. . .

"Thanks, man."

Alfred took the two drinks from the bartender, one water and one very small glass of scotch. Arthur might not remember him, but surely he'd remember the fact that he couldn't hold his liquor to save his life.

Drinks in hand, he made his way over to the tables, automatically looking to the corner. And in the corner was yet another puzzle piece that had fallen into place.

Arthur had picked _their_ table.

That table in the corner where they'd had their first kiss.

Alfred hurried over, stopping short when he saw someone sitting in the seat that was normally reserved for him. Someone who was making Arthur laugh and smile.

The American kept going, heart sinking. Arthur stifled his laughter as he approached, though he was still grinning like a schoolgirl on her first date.

"Oh, Alfred, hello. Is this table alright? Hang on, I'll go pull up another chair."

Alfred mumbled a 'Go ahead,' never taking his eyes off the newcomer. The blonde smiled up at Alfred, raising his hand for a shake.

"Francis Bonnefoy. Is he yours?"

Alfred stared at the blonde for awhile before nodding, taking Arthur's seat.

"My apologies, he said he wasn't on a date. Had I known-"

"No, no, it's not your fault, um...we're...we're kind of-"

"Here we are now."

Arthur returned suddenly, placing a chair between the two men. He sat with a content sigh before looking between the two of them.

"I like it here. Alfred."

He turned to his partner, gesturing to the man on the left.

"This is Francis. He's here on business from Paris. Isn't that exciting?"

Alfred nodded while Francis chuckled.

"It's not _that_ intriguing."

_Alfred_ thought it was intriguing. He thought this whole scenario was intriguing. His fiancé, suffering from severe memory loss, was clearly being wooed by a sharply dressed Frenchman. And all Alfred could do was watch. What else was he supposed to do? He couldn't deck a guy for what Arthur would assume was 'no good reason.' And what would he think of Alfred if he did? That he was some possessive...jerk?

There was no winning here. They were just talking, and Alfred had made it somewhat clear that they were together, but Arthur had stated this wasn't a date.

...and look how _happy_ he was. Socializing and laughing, talking to other people. Would it make Alfred a bad person to stop this?

Was the universe telling him that he'd had his chance?

Arthur took up the scotch and threw it back, looking immediately more relaxed the second he took it down.

"I'll be right back. Alfred...you think you could get me another one of those? Thanks."

He stood from the table and made his way towards the restroom, leaving Francis and Alfred to stare at each other. Or in Alfred's case, talk. Explain.

"We're engaged."

Francis' eyes widened for a moment.

"Really? Well, I had no idea. He didn't say anything about that."

"He wouldn't. He's...he's not really-"

"Ah. I understand."

The stranger reached across the table and took Alfred's hand, rubbing his thumb across it gently,

"He isn't out, is he?"

Alfred snatched his hand away. Who the hell was this guy?

"No. I mean...yes...I mean...ah, _damn it._"

He put his head in his hands, ignoring the look of confusion from Francis. How the fuck was he supposed to go about doing this?

"...we were engaged. But...we got into a wreck about a week ago, and he got a concussion. He doesn't know who I am, or...anything about me."

There was a sound from Francis that could only be described as apologetic.

"My condolences...Alfred, was it? I've never heard anything like that. You must be at a loss as what to do..."

_Shut up. Just shut up. You don't know anything._

His prayers were answered, as Francis offered to go refill Arthur's scotch. Alfred was left with his thoughts.

...was he supposed to leave Arthur? Let him go on his own path, instead of trying to drag him down the same one all over again? But how could he do that? He couldn't leave Arthur. He'd almost lost him once, and he had no intention of doing it again.

...what was he supposed to do? It had only been two days. Two days compared to three years...he'd sworn forever. He'd stay with Arthur forever.

But what if Arthur didn't _want_ forever?

_Until I can get a place of my own._

_I don't want to be a burden._

He just didn't seem to be getting it. They had been in love. Madly in love, on the road to a happy, fulfilling marriage and life together. There was photographic evidence. His parents had told him. Alfred had shown him the note.

How could Arthur be doing this him?

. . .

Oh God.

No. No no no, he shouldn't be thinking things like that. This wasn't Arthur's fault at all. How could he possibly blame him? Waking up with some crazy person saying that they were engaged? Dating and living together for years?

Everything was crashing down, and there was absolutely nothing Alfred could do but watch and hope.

Arthur came back, taking his seat.

"Where did Francis go?"

"He's getting your drink."

"Oh. That was nice of him."

Alfred nodded, feeling sick as Francis came back, full glass of scotch in his hand. He placed it in front of Arthur, smiling between the two men.

"My apologies, but I must make my leave. I am here on business after all."

Alfred kept his eyes on Arthur, who looked genuinely disappointed. So much for not being sure of his sexuality...

"How long will you be in the States?"

"...I don't think telling you will do much good. Take care, Arthur Kirkland. Alfred."

He smiled at the men before departing for the exit. Arthur sighed before looking over to Alfred.

"Did you say something while I was gone?"

"Well...yeah. Didn't you?"

Arthur shrugged, looking annoyed as he swigged more scotch. Again, every drink made him more loose.

"You told him about the accident, didn't you?"

"Was I not supposed to?"

"Ugh...no wonder he left."

He threw back more of his drink.

"Prob'ly thinks I'm mental..."

Alfred stared at his partner incredulously. Was he serious right now?

"Were you flirting with him?"

"What if I was? He seemed nice."

...this was going to be life now. Alfred felt like he shouldn't be giving up just yet, but...God damn it. If this wasn't a deterrent then what the hell was?

Arthur threw back the rest of his scotch, slumping forward on the table. Two glasses and he'd already lost it.

"Come on. Let's get you home."

"I don't wanna..."

"Arthur, please."

"_Noooo_..."

Alfred stood, hoisting his partner over his shoulder before making it outside. The giggling from behind him, along with slurred 'whee's was enough to at least put a smile on Alfred's face. He opened the door to his car and gently placed Arthur upright in the passenger seat, taking special care to make sure he was comfortable. Alfred hurried over to the driver's side and drove away.

This vehicle didn't handle as well as his Monte Carlo, but it'd have to do until it came out of the shop. _If_ it came out of the shop.

"A'fred?"

"Yeah, Arthur?"

He looked over to his partner, whose head was lolling over to the side.

"...m'sorry..."

"For what?"

"...you're upset."

Alfred had nothing to say. He didn't know what to say. They drove in silence. Arthur would mumble something every now and again, but nothing intelligible. Alfred would look to him every once in awhile, only to avert his eyes to the road.

Admiring Arthur had held a price.

Finally they reached home. Alfred got out and carried Arthur in, who was giggling now. He lay the drunk down on the sofa, sitting next to him with a sigh. Alfred listened to him sing off-key, waving his hands in the air as if he were conducting.

"Oh, it's a jolly 'oliday wif' Mary...oh God...tha's my favorite Julia Roberts movie..."

"You're thinking Julie Andrews, babe."

Ah...shit. It slipped out. Oh well. Arthur didn't seem to care. He sat up, wobbling a bit as he squinted at Alfred.

"Are you sure? That...that don't seem right..."

"It's right, trust me."

"Right...okay...I trust you."

Without any warning, Arthur lay his head on Alfred's lap, murmuring things again. Alfred raised his hands up quickly.

..._now_ what the hell was he supposed to do?

"...hey, Arthur?"

"Mhm?"

"Why do you think I'm upset?"

Arthur turned his head to look up at Alfred, his eyes bloodshot.

"'Cause...'cause Francis. And you keep sayin' that...that we're together..."

His voice started breaking. Oh, shit. Alfred should've seen this coming; Arthur was either ridiculously happy when drunk, or ridiculously sad. Clearly, he'd gotten the latter on this night.

"And...and I pro'lly hurt you, and...I-I'm sorry if I made you...I didn' even like 'im that much...I don' wan' you to be mad a' me..."

Alfred immediately pulled Arthur, holding him close in a tight embrace.

"No..._no_, I'm not mad at you. I understand, it's not your fault. Don't think I'm mad at you, okay? Okay, Arthur? Don't think like that, babe, it's alright. It's alright..."

. . .

Was he talking to Arthur or himself?

He held tighter, feeling the shaking of his partner's shoulders and some tears wetting his shirt. Some tears were starting to slip from his own eyes.

"I could never be mad at you, Arthur, I..."

. . .

Damn it.

Damn everything to hell.

"...A-A'fred?"

"Y-yeah?"

"...when are we...can we go to the...ngh..."

Alfred lifted Arthur a bit, confused.

"Go where, babe?"

Arthur smiled drunkenly, giggling something fierce before flopping back down to Alfred's shoulder, humming softly.

"I wanna get the dog early...can we?

. . .

Alfred kissed his partner's forehead, holding him tighter than he'd ever imagined he could.

"First thing tomorrow. I promise, Arthur."

"Mm...thank you, A'fred..."

. . .

"A'fred, don' cry...why're you cryin'? S'okay...s'just a dog..."


	4. Barking Up the Wrong Tree

That night had been one of understanding for Alfred.

He'd decided not to move Arthur too much and just brought out a few blankets to the sofa. This beat-up old thing was better than the guest bed, anyway.

Alfred lay in a sleeping bag, staring at the ceiling, occasionally glancing over to his snoozing partner. His drunken parter had conked out shortly after asking for a trip to buy their dog.

...their dog.

That was something they'd been talking about only a month ago. Just one month. Was it the alcohol that had jogged something? Was that the key?

Alfred frowned, knowing it would be wrong in more ways than one if he kept Arthur hammered 24/7. What else could he do?

Alfred closed his eyes, too lost in thought to get a good night's sleep.

. . .

"The hell are you doing on the floor?"

His eyes flew open at the sound of Arthur's voice. The Brit groaned, sitting up on the couch, clutching his skull.

"Jesus...how much did I have last night?"

"Two glasses of scotch."

"...oh...must've been strong."

Alfred smiled, wriggling out of the sleeping bag as he spoke.

"Very strong."

Arthur rubbed his eyes, wincing at the sunlight. This was a very common sight. It pleased Alfred, oddly enough. Maybe in moments like this, he was allowed to be happy. The normal moments meant he could be happy.

"You said something familiar last night."

"...oh. Like what?"

Why did he sound nervous?

"We've been talking about getting a dog. A golden retriever? We were gonna wait until after the wedding, but...you said 'I wanna get the dog early.' You remembered, Arthur!"

Arthur squinted, looking to the window.

"...I don't remember saying that, but...I-I feel like I...well, I've always wanted a dog..."

Alfred sat up, taking Arthur's hands.

"You've wanted a dog since you were ten, but your dad's allergic. You kept a puppy you found near your middle school for a few weeks, but your mother made you give it away. You did, but you kept visiting it at it's new home. And your parents had no idea, so your dad kept reacting because of the fur on your clothes and they didn't know what was going on. Then the family moved, and you felt alone because your brothers are assholes and you didn't know how to make friends. After high school you-"

"Stop it."

Arthur tore his hands from Alfred as if he'd been burned. Alfred realized he might've been been an overkill just now.

"...look. I know you..._know_ me, but please. My head's pounding like a drum, and the last thing I need is my entire depressing childhood read out by a complete stranger."

...a complete stranger.

"I...I was only saying what you've told me, I didn't..."

. . .

A complete _stranger_.

Alfred could feel a part of him dying every time he repeated those words in his head. Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples.

"...I'm sorry. That came off more harsh than it should have...I say the worst things when I'm hungover. You probably know that, though."

"I do. It's okay."

Arthur had said some pretty horrendous things when drunk or hungover. None of which he really meant...was the principle still to be applied here? He'd like to think that Arthur hadn't meant that comment.

"So. Ah..."

Arthur gently swung his legs off the couch, looking down at Alfred.

"...are we getting a dog today?"

Alfred smiled softly, resisting the urge to take his hand again.

"Yeah. Right after breakfast."

"May I cook?"

"...sure. Whatever you like."

. . .

The car ride to the kennel was quick and easy. Silent, save for a quiet apology from Arthur.

"I don't think you're a stranger...I didn't mean that."

"It's alright, you don't need t-"

"No, it's _not_ alright, quit _saying_ that. You took me in, you're feeding me, and I've been treating you like you don't exist. Like...like shit."

"...Arthur, that's not a problem, you're just-"

"Not remembering you isn't an excuse for acting the way I have."

After that little admission, Alfred's head was swimming as they parked at the kennel.

"I'd like to talk to you when we get home...alright?"

"Of course."

The two walked into the animal shelter, the sounds of barking and chirping and mewing coming from a door that was just off to the side. Alfred bit back a grin as he saw Arthur tense up. The realization that he was finally going to be the owner of a pet must have been setting in. Alfred decided to make this a bit more fun for him as he approached the volunteer worker at the front desk.

"Are you looking for something in particular today, sir?"

"Actually, could we just see all the dogs you have?"

"Absolutely. Right this way, gentleman."

Arthur's eyes widened.

"We're seeing-?"

"All the dogs. Just for you."

The worked opened the door and gestured the two inside. Alfred moved into the caged area whereas Arthur nearly bolted inside. All around them were dogs, nearly every age and breed. Some were young, and excited that visitors had come! Some were old and slow, oh, more noise.

Arthur, however, was nearly glowing. Alfred grinned, watching him dart from one cage to another.

"Look at them all! They're so...l don't even know how to-"

"Pick whatever one you want."

"...didn't you say we wanted a golden retriever?"

"Whatever you want."

Arthur nodded, grinning again as he looked around some more.

Alfred figured the breed didn't matter, so long as it was _their_ dog. So long as Arthur was happy, Alfred could be happy. And right now, the both of them were _truly_ happy.

"This one. This one right here. I have a good feeling about him. Oh, look at it's _ears_. Please?"

Alfred looked up from his musings, seeing Arthur's choice. Well, wasn't that just another sign right there? The dog that had been Arthur's preference where a Doberman had been Alfred's. The golden retriever had been a compromise.

Arthur wanted something small and energetic, to play with.

Alfred wanted something big and strong, to protect the house.

The golden retriever was big _and_ energetic. A compromise.

This, however, was perfectly fine, perfect for them.

He went to the front desk, flashing a grin.

"We'll take the Corgi."

. . .

Arthur cradled the puppy the entire ride home, cooing at it and giving it kisses to the top of it's head. Alfred couldn't stop smiling, trying to keep his eyes on the road instead of the insanely adorable display going on right next to him.

"What should we call him?"

"He's your dog. You can call him whatever you want."

The Brit looked over, confused.

"I thought he was _our_ dog? I mean, we're sort of living together, so..."

. . .

"Yeah. Andy's our dog."

"Andy? Oh no, not Andy. How about...Malcom?"

"What, do you want the neighborhood dogs making fun of him?"

"Malcom's a fine name! Okay...Bertram."

"That's even worse than Malcom! I forgot you have such old-fashioned tastes."

"They're not old, they're classic! There's nothing wrong with that!"

And for one car ride, things seemed normal. Totally normal. The bickering was natural, and it lasted the whole way home. The puppy jumped from Arthur's lap to the outside, dashing for the door with his owners in hot pursuit. Alfred opened the door, watching the still-unnamed Corgi skitter around excitedly on the wood floor.

"Alfred, we need to name this damn dog."

"That's what I'm trying to do! I'm trying to save it from a lifetime of embarrassment!"

"What's so embarrassing about Jerome?"

"_Everything_."

"Better than Captain Corgi. _Really_?"

"That was _brilliant_, and you _know_ it."

The two sat on the sofa, watching the dog scamper about, sliding wildly across the floor, yipping excitedly at it's home, his owners.

"...Scampers."

"Huh?"

"It fits. Look at him. He's just happy to be alive, isn't he?"

"...yeah. Scampers. I like it."

Alfred smiled at the finally-christened dog, then to Arthur.

"Good pick, Arthur."

Arthur turned to his roommate, smiling naturally.

"Thanks, Alfred."

They stared at each other a bit too long. Arthur noticed and looked away quickly, feeling a deep heat come to his cheeks. Alfred chuckled, patting his back.

"It's okay to be happy, ya know."

"I know it is..."

"You should smile more often. It's nice."

"I smile plenty!"

A loud bark interrupted them. Scampers had stopped his running to observe his owners, panting quietly.

"...I'll go make him some water. You're probably thirsty, aren't you dear? Far too much excitement in one day, am I right?"

Arthur scooped up the puppy, scratching gently behind it's neck.

Alfred felt satisfied with today's events. For the first time in awhile, he was truly at peace with the world.

At least, until he remembered that Arthur wanted to talk to him about something.

The nibbling despair rose again, right in the pit of his stomach.


	5. Out and About

Hello, Taylor again. Thank you all for your reviews! However, there are few things I would like to clear up. First, and what I find most important, this is not based upon 'The Vow.' ^^' I've never seen the movie or read the book, but I am aware of it's general plot line. That being said, again, this is not based upon Mr. Spark's works. Secondly, I am not certain as to when I will end this story. I have already settled in my mind that there will definitely be no more than fifteen chapters.

Thanks again for reading. It means a lot that people enjoy my work.

Also, I apologize for this chapter being a bit shorter than the others. I'll make up for it tomorrow. I guarantee. Enjoy!

* * *

Arthur and Alfred spent their day getting to know Scampers. Simply put, the two grown men were on the floor, rolling around and speaking like children to an animal that probably didn't understand a damn word they were saying. They chased the puppy around and threw objects for it to retrieve. Whoever the previous owner had been must have done a somewhat decent job, as Scampers understood the basic commands of sit, stay, and how to take care of his business outdoors. Yes, it seemed they had struck gold with this one.

Alfred saw clearly that Arthur cared for the little thing with all his heart. It was evident in the way he held Scampers, the hushed way he spoke to him.

"I love you, darling. I love you so, so much."

The Brit turned to Alfred, petting the puppy fondly.

"Alfred, tell Scampers you love him."

A small smile cracked onto Alfred's face.

"I love you, too."

"Yes he does, he _does _love you, sweetie. Go on, now. Explore."

Arthur set Scampers down, unknowing that Alfred's admission of affection hadn't been aimed directly at the dog. The sound of claws clicking away down the hall came before a small growl from Arthur's stomach.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

"I'll cook dinner. You've done so much of it already."

"Are you sure? I was thinking-"

"I _insist_."

. . .

The two ate quietly. Alfred had made a decent pasta dish that was neither burnt, nor undercooked. It was normal, and right now, normal was all he could ask for. Arthur would speak, mention again how delighted he was to finally own a dog, and how cute Scampers was, and thank Alfred again for the opportunity, and-

"Arthur."

Alfred interrupted his partner, who stopped doting about the new addition to their home. The American set his fork down gently, sighing...how exactly should he do this? He'd hate to just ruin what seemed to be a good day, but still. To ignore it would be wrong.

"About earlier. You said you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"...oh. Right."

Arthur's face flushed and he immediately looked away. The hell was _that _expression for?

"Ah...never mind. It wasn't important."

"Arthur, don't be like that. Anything you have to say is important."

"Not this, it's fine."

"Arthur, please?"

. . .

"Is something wrong? You're not upset about anything, are you? I mean, I'm sorry if I came on strong or anything, I just thought helping you with...you kinda really helped me when you were drunk, and...shit, that didn't come out right, I mean-"

"_Alfred_."

Arthur held up a hand to stop Alfred from rambling, effectively silencing his partner.

"...sorry. This is just really...weird for me."

"I think we can both agree on that."

They ate in silence for awhile. Alfred settled that if Arthur didn't want to tell him what was on his mind, then he wouldn't force it out of him. He wouldn't force anything _on _him. Arthur was a changed man now; as much as it was difficult to admit, that's just the way the cards had been dealt. He was a different man, he might never recover, but Alfred could at least try his best to-

"Let's go out."

The statement was nearly shouted from the opposite end of the table. Alfred's eyes flew up to Arthur, who looked-

...oh _God_. He looked like a fourth grader who'd finally decided to confess his feelings to a girl. Or something equally as pathetic. His eyes were wide and his face was flushed into a deep crimson, looking utterly terrified of rejection.

"...w-what?"

"...l-let's go out. Not tonight, obviously, but..."

"We could tonight, if you want. Shale's is-"

Wait...what was Alfred thinking? Shale's had gone _so _well last time, let's just throw him back in there. Arthur was probably just bored and wanted to go have fun. Better he be out having a good time with total strangers than being cooped up with one...

Gah. No. Stop thinking that way. Arthur had apologized.

"Oh...wait, I forgot, it's Sunday. Shale's isn't open."

"I...I figured as much. I didn't mean Shale's."

. . .

"I sort of meant...that is, I..."

Alfred watched his partner, completely dumbfounded. What on Earth was he so nervous about? It was like suddenly he'd been struck dumb.

"Oh...damn it, Alfred, what part of 'let's go out' are you not getting?"

Arthur looked at him, huffing in exasperation. It only took Alfred a few seconds to realize just what was going on here.

"...wait..."

Holy...holy _shit_.

"Do you...Arthur, do you mean a _date_?"

"...I guess that would be the proper word here...yes..."

The speed at which Alfred got up was near light, clattering the table with his knee as he went for his wallet in the den.

"Go start the car."

"W-wait, right _now_? What about dinner?"

Alfred came back into the kitchen, taking their two plates and dumping the food in the trash bin without so much as a second thought.

"It wasn't that good, anyway. Where we're going is great. Come on."

He stopped himself from grasping Arthur's hand as they made their way to the door.

Scampers was resting quietly on the sofa, his ears twitching as he heard movement. He perked up as he heard an engine roar to life and screeching tires speeding out of the driveway.

...oh well. The puppy was utterly exhausted. These noises didn't concern him.

. . .

"Alfred, when I said go out, I didn't mean _here_."

"You know here?"

"_Yes_, I know _here_! How could I not?"

...interesting. 'Here' was a restaurant. Not only that, but one of the ritziest restaurants in town. 'The Library' had opened five months before they'd met, if Alfred wasn't mistaken.

The window between Arthur's memories and the accident was pretty damn small, it seemed.

"Well, we're already here. Let's go!"

"Alfred!"

Out from the hot night and into the cool restaurant they went. Alfred spoke to the host, who led the two to a cozy booth near the rear of the restaurant. He lit a candle, handed the men their menus, and went on his way.

Alfred grinned over his menu, dimming slightly when he noticed Arthur's expression. He looked nervous again.

...shit. Overkill. Definitely overkill.

"You okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just...I feel underdressed. And I left my wallet at home. The bill's probably going to add up..."

"_Are you sure we should be here? I thought this place had a dress code. And I'm not sure if I feel alright with you paying.._."

Alfred dared a chance and took Arthur's hand across the table. He smiled gently, speaking only to his partner.

"We're paying customers. All they need to worry about is getting our order right, not about what we look like. If you want, you can pay me back your portion when we get home, but I'd rather you didn't. Tonight is about you. Us."

He took Arthur's other hand, squeezing softly. Please. Understand.

"Let me take care of you, okay?"

Arthur wasn't wrenching away or getting upset, so...that was a start. He just looked very surprised. Surprised and flustered.

"...a-alright."

Alfred was relieved to see a shaky smile come to Arthur's face. Almost shy.

"But...don't let this be some kind of norm. I'm not a woman, and this is the twenty-first century. I intend to pay next time."

So there would be a next time.

...maybe Alfred was going about this the wrong way.

Maybe instead of trying to recreate the past...he had to sculpt a new future.

And right now, in this moment, the future was starting to look just as promising as it did a week ago.


	6. Peace of Mind

"So. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

Arthur looked up from sipping his wine, an expression of confusion sweeping across his features. He set the glass down, wondering if he'd heard Alfred correctly.

"But...you already know just about everything about me. It's a bit off-putting, I'll admit, but I understand. I doubt you want to hear it all over again."

He watched Alfred shrug, a small smile coming to his face.

"I like listening."

Arthur looked down to the table, going for the wine again.

"You don't strike me as the listening type..."

A bit of the liquid sloshed out of the glass as the blonde startled Arthur with a loud laugh.

"Alright, alright, you hit the nail on the head with that. Okay. So what do you wanna talk about?"

Arthur set the glass down again, finding his...date...a bit more interesting than anything on the table. He seemed so...lively. Carefree. All he'd really seen of Alfred since leaving the hospital was a soft-spoken, fragile...or, not fragile. Alfred kept treating Arthur as if he were a vase on a pedestal. A very narrow, unstable pedestal.

"Well...I'd like you to relax. You don't have to impress me, you know."

Alfred's grin closed to a smile. Arthur even noticed that his shoulders dropped just a bit.

"What do ya mean?"

"I want you to treat me however I was before."

And now the smile was gone completely. Shit. Arthur was always bad with these sorts of things. Now he'd upset him more.

"I mean...all I want is-"

"It's okay, Arthur."

"...what?"

"I know this is difficult, I mean...you probably still think I'm some psychopath or something, just...I thought it'd be better if I help you, because...I mean, you're still trying to adjust, and I understand, I wanna help, but-

"Alfred. You aren't listening. This is _exactly _what I'm talking about."

_That _shut him up. Arthur sighed, leaning back in the booth. He rubbed his temples, trying not to get irritated. It had been three days of this.

"...may I ask you something?"

"Yeah, anything."

Alfred had moved his hands to grasp Arthur's, to which the Brit had pulled them away. If he was going to say this, it had to be right now, without any sort of confusion or emotions or anything.

"Are you..._always_ like this?"

Now it was Alfred's turn to be confused, though there was still a smile on his face masking it over poorly.

"Like what?"

"...this. You just seem so..."

Arthur stopped, unable to hold Alfred's gaze for too long.

"...I didn't die, you know."

There was an uncomfortable silence from both ends of the table. Arthur wasn't looking at his partner, but he could only imagine the look on his face. Probably pained.

"...you show me these photos, and notes and...you tell me all of these wonderful things we've done, things I don't recall ever doing, but would love to do, but...I see those things, and then...I see you."

Arthur swallowed.

"And when I see _you_, I don't see the person in the photos. That person looks joyful, and grateful for his life, and...and he doesn't look like a single thing in the world could ever bother him. I look at you, and you're just...the exact opposite. You're careful around me. I _do _see the way you look at me, you know. It's like you expect me to just fall over and have a fit, like I'm still in the hospital or something. Like I'm going to crack at any moment."

. . .

"I'm not going to pretend that I know how amnesia works. I'm not expecting for some switch to go off. I don't think it works like that. I don't think I'm going to go to sleep tonight, or tomorrow night, and suddenly be just...okay. I mean, I _feel _okay, right now. I'm confused, but I'm alive and well. I don't remember the doctors saying I had a tumor, or an aneurism, or anything like that. All I know is that apparently, some three years of my life are gone."

"That's what I see in the photos. Three years of wonderful, incredible experiences with...with someone wonderful and incredible are gone. And then I wake up and find that that person is..."

. . .

"...Alfred...I know how you must feel, but I don't understand what happened to _you_. _You_ didn't get mental trauma that altered your personality, or at least that I know of. You're alright. You still _have_..._all _of those experiences. They're not amazing pieces of paper that you don't remember reading, or crying over."

Arthur gently took Alfred's hands, still unable to meet the blue eyes across the table.

"...I'm not dead, Alfred. You can look at me, and feel me, and know me, and...and all I want is to know you. The you I see in those pictures. The you that..._proposed _to me. That wrote me that beautiful note...I thought I saw it today, getting the dog. The time we spent arguing was the most at ease I've been around you in the past three days."

. . .

"...do you know what my parents said about you? They said you were the best thing they could ever want in a son-in-law. And my parents disapprove of damn near _everything_. They said you were intelligent, and hilarious, and overall just one of the greatest people they'd ever met."

"I know you're upset, Alfred, but...and don't get me wrong, please, _please_ don't take this the wrong way, Alfred. But...I honestly think it's fair to say that _I _lost someone, too...and I'd like to get to know that perso-"

Arthur made the mistake of looking up. Alfred's face was streaked with tears, his hold on Arthur's hands trembling. The Brit immediately got up from his side of the booth and slid into Alfred's, embracing him carefully.

"Please don't cry. You don't strike me as the weepy type, either. There, there...come on now."

He flinched as Alfred's arms looped around his body, relaxing quickly. Arthur patted his back, shushing him softly as the pats turned to small circular rubs.

"Can you do that for me, Alfred? Just be yourself?"

Arthur hesitated for a moment before moving Alfred's hair to the side and kissing a spot on his forehead. Alfred flew up, eyes wide and red.

"...w-why did...?"

"I like you, Alfred...I do. And apparently you're the best person I've ever known. So please...can I get to know you? The you that I fell in love with?"

Alfred smiled. It looked like a genuine smile. Not a mask, or facade...a real, actual smile. It reminded Arthur of the photo with them in London. That smiling, happy-to-just-be-alive Alfred. He wiped away his tears, cupping Arthur's face in his hands.

"...yeah. Of course you can."

"Good."

Arthur smiled and moved back to his side of the table, propping his head on his hands.

...he liked this Alfred already. He had a smile that could blind a room. His eyes were shining not with tears, but laughter. The atmosphere seemed three tons lighter. If Arthur had known this was waiting for him, he would've spoke to Alfred about this much sooner.

"So...I'd like to know everything there is to know about Alfred F. Jones."

. . .

The night, from then on, went swimmingly. The food was excellent, the atmosphere was light, and Alfred went into his background and his likes and dislikes. Arthur would nod and laugh, sometimes poke fun at his date. How could one not tease when their friend had admitted to going through a superhero phase in middle school?

Occasionally, Alfred would bring up their shared past. Arthur would interject, state how he'd always wanted to go to certain places, or even quietly ask if they could do it again. Alfred would smile and agree.

"It's all so strange...you'd think something would be powerful enough to break through, you know?"

"When ya think about it, stuff fades away all the time. You forget about...ah, I dunno. A city you visited years ago. Other stuff happens and replaces that until there's a reminder. Someone brings it up, or you see a picture. Then it all comes back...of course, I don't know how alcohol and _dogs _are related..."

"Hey, you yourself said that scotch was strong!"

"I'm just saying, you might wanna ease up on the wine, lightweight."

Arthur frowned before sputtering into a laugh. Alfred followed suit, and soon the two were laughing hard enough to draw attention to their table. They quieted down, still grinning at one another.

"Are we getting dessert?"

"You just ate that entire plate of chicken. How can you still be hungry?"

"You'd be surprised, Artie. Cheesecake sound good?"

"...cheesecake sounds marvelous. But...don't call me Artie."

"I only did it cause I know it bothers you."

"You seem like you have fun toying with people."

"You betcha, Artie."

"Stop _calling _me that."

"Nope. You said treat you normally. This is as normal as it gets..."

Alfred let the sentence die before it was too late. Well, that would have been awkward. Unfortunately, Arthur's raised brow indicated that he'd caught on.

"Well _that _sentence ended strangely."

Alfred shifted in his seat. Maybe normal want quite attainable yet.

"Alfred, you're not hiding something from me, are you?"

"...nah, I'm just...I'm used to calling you things."

. . .

"...oh. Things like what exactly?"

"Well, uh..."

Alfred never thought he'd have to go into detail on his pet names. Especially to the owner of them. He took a deep breath, gathering the data.

"Babe's my favorite...Baby, which when ya think about it isn't that different from Babe. Doll is next in line. You hate that one...well, you don't _hate_ it, I know you love it, but-"

"What are you talking about? Doll's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Alfred grinned as Arthur rejected the word. His lips said no, but that embarrassed blush clearly said otherwise. Just like it always had. He reached across the table and stroked Arthur's cheek, the skin hot under his fingers. Did it just get warmer?

"If you say so. Babe."

And yes, he'd gotten even more heated. Alfred took his hand back, easing into his seat happily. He watched, pleased, as Arthur tried composing himself.

"...do...do I call _you _anything?"

"Oh, _tons_. Darling, dear, lad, sweetheart, baby...they're all these old-fashioned, 50's-couple kinda names. It's cute."

"I...I am not _cute_, I'm a twenty-three year old man!

"You're _adorable_, Doll."

And the target had been hit, most likely with a heat-seeking missile. Arthur's face exploded with color and suddenly he was nearly shouting. Could one scream and whisper at the same time? Arthur had certainly achieved it.

"Why would you call me that? I'm not a woman, and I'm not adorable, and what makes you think I'm a _doll_, anyway? Enough! I'm _not_ cute, and you're being _stupid_!"

. . .

"Why the hell are you laughing? Stop that! People are staring...Alfred, did you hear me? Quit being a git!"


	7. Hard Night's Sleep

"Arthur, _hush_."

"Summer ti-ime...and the livin's..._easy_!"

"Ssh, you're gonna wake the neighbors."

"But I. Love. _Singing_!"

"I know ya do, babe, but it's eleven-thirty."

Alfred helped his drunken partner up the stoop to his door, unsuccessfully trying to get the giggling, serenading man to pipe down. Three glasses. Three glasses of wine had done this. He should've kept a better eye on Arthur. Other than this little setback, this evening had been terrific in just about every way.

"A'fred, you wanna know wha' I think abou' you?"

"Sure, when we get inside."

"O-_kay _then."

Arthur continued laughing right up until he was placed on the couch, rolling on the cushions. Then, and only then, did he settle down. Alfred sat beside him, sighing as he moved Arthur's hair from his forehead. He smiled softly.

"I guess hearing you sing is better than helping you throw up, isn't it?"

Arthur giggled again, staring up at Alfred.

"...you're _really _nice."

"Nah. No, I'm not. I'm just decent."

Arthur made some unintelligible noise, something like disapproval as he tried sitting up. The man ended up flopping back and forth for a few moments before giving up.

"Nonono, you _are_! Alfred, do you hear me? You...are a _nice_. _Person_."

Alfred chuckled, helping Arthur sit up.

"Okay. Maybe I am."

"No, Alfred, no' maybe. You're nice...an' funny, an' smart..."

"Okay, Arthur, you're rambling now. You're just tired, let's get you to-"

"An' bloody sexy, too."

"...go on."

Sleep could wait for awhile. Alfred was suddenly very interested in whatever Arthur had to say.

"H-how do you do it? You're jus'..._look_ a' you. Tha' hair, those eyes...are those freckles? I think I see freckles on that face o' yours. You didn' tell me you had freckles! Look at those freckles!"

Alfred was laughing some more. God, this was perfect. Hilarious and perfect. These were the sorts of things Arthur would say, alright. It was beloved, and it had very much been missed,

"I thought they were visible enough that they didn't bear mentioning."

Arthur nodded, moving closer to Alfred's face, taking it in his hands.

"I see 'em...they're _really _small...A'fred?"

More giggling came from the drunk.

"A'fred, why're you blushin'? S'cute. _You're_ cute."

"...I don' normally kiss on the firs' date, but...but you're cute. Come 'ere."

Alfred immediately pulled away from his partner. _Shit_, no. That wasn't good at all. Alfred caught his partner just before Arthur fell to the cushion face-first.

"Arthur, _no_."

The Brit locked onto Alfred's eyes. Arthur's green eyes immediately watered up, his face crumpling into what would almost certainly be the worst breakdown Alfred would ever _see_.

"...y-you don' like me...you hate me..."

"No, I don't _hate_ you. I like you. I like you a _lot_."

"Bu' you don' wanna kiss me..."

Alfred pulled Arthur into a tight hug, sighing lightly. The waterworks had already begun; he could feel the dampness on his shoulder, and the sniffling was right in his ear.

"Yes, I do. I want to kiss you and never stop. Arthur, if the world were perfect...hell, I'd kiss you all day long. I want to kiss you more than anything in the world."

"Then _do _it..."

"Not like this. When you kiss me, I want you to be sober, and fully aware of what you're doing. We're gonna back off the drinking for awhile, okay? Do you understand, Arthur?"

. . .

"I'm tired...le's go to bed, A'fred."

"Okay, babe."

So this little spiel would have to be repeated in the morning. Oh well. It was for the best. Alfred scooped up his companion and carried him down the hall, opening the guest bedroom.

"Wha're you doin'?"

"Putting you to bed."

"...d-don' be stupid, I don' sleep here...jus' 'cause I'm drunk don' mean I'm blind..."

. . .

Was this another moment? Was Arthur's memory slipping through again? Or was that just what Alfred hoped was going on right now?

If anything, maybe sleeping in the same room would be helpful. Alfred would be able to keep a better eye on him that way, and not only that, but...and this was selfish, he knew, but...he'd grown rather weary of sleeping alone. It just didn't settle right after so long.

Alfred gently placed his partner in his rightful place. There was a smile on the Brit's face, a true sense of peace as he curled up into a ball and pulled the sheets over himself. The American covered Arthur gently with the comforter before slipping in beside him. Alfred took off his glasses ans placed them on the nightstand. His partner rolled over to face him, still smiling, eyes closed. Serene; he looked ready to pass out any second.

"A'fred?"

"Go to sleep, doll. It's okay."

"...you really are nice...thank you."

"I'm not nice. Just decent."

Arthur didn't respond, slipping into a peaceful sleep. Alfred stifled a grin, wondering if it would be alright to hold him. He didn't have any ulterior motives behind it. He was just...well...

Alfred gently placed his arms around Arthur. Arthur had been right at dinner.

He was tired of feeling alone for no good reason. Arthur was right here, beside him, alive and well. It was up to Alfred to be a better partner, maybe even get them back to where they were before.

"...I love you, Arthur."

. . .

"Mm...I love you, too, dear."

. . .

Alfred nearly crushed Arthur in the moment, calming down the second he heard him cough. He kissed the top of his head lightly.

"I love you, Arthur."

"Yes, yes, I _know_, Alfred. Go to sleep..."

. . .

"Jesus, the hell are you crying for? Come on...stop tha'. It's not like you..."

. . . .

Alfred opened his eyes. Morning had come. Not only that, but the sun was shining on Arthur. It was the most wonderful thing to wake up to. That soft face, free of any stress...just total peace. The rays were hitting his hair just right...Arthur was beautiful every second of every day, but this was exceptional.

The American smiled, shifting over to kiss Arthur's forehead.

"Mornin', babe."

Arthur's eyes fluttered a bit, a small groan coming from his throat. Where was he? His vision cleared and there was-

. . .

The shriek that came from Arthur Kirkland was deafening, as was the thud that came from him falling off the bed. Alfred swore, moving over to look at the writhing sheets on the floor.

"Fuck, are you _okay_?"

"_What the hell are you trying to pull_?"

"What?"

"Get me out of this, _now_!"

. . .

The two ate their breakfast in an uncomfortable silence. Arthur had an ice pack on his head, and Arthur wore guilt upon his face.

"So...I tried to kiss you...and you declined...so that seemed like a welcome invitation for you to sleep with me. Am I missing anything?"

"We didn't have sex, I promise. _You_ were the one that didn't want to sleep in the guest bedroom."

Arthur contemplated that.

"...I believe you. I feel like I'd feel different if you did well...that..."

"So there! I wouldn't ever take advantage of you like that, Arthur. There's nothing wrong...look, two people can be in the same bed without having sex, you know.

"Please, stop saying it so freely like that..."

"What, sex?"

"_Yes_, that."

Alfred raised up his hands, mumbling, "Okay, okay." Geez. He never remembered Arthur being such a prude.

"I'll tell you again. You were drunk. You told me all about how wonderful and 'damn sexy' I was, then you tried planting one on me. I knew that woulda been wrong, so I took you to bed in the guest room, but you insisted that that wasn't where you slept, so...we went back to my room. And we did _not _have _sex_. And...I think you might've...I dunno...broke through again."

Arthur looked up, lightly blushing from all this information.

"What do you mean? Something familiar?"

"...you called me dear. And...told me you loved me."

There was a horrid silence that was only broken by the tapping of puppy feet on the floor. Arthur leaned down to the floor, petting Scampers with a 'Good morning, sweetie.' He came back up and addressed the issue with a sigh.

"I...I don't know what to tell you, Alfred. I don't have a problem with being in the same room as you, or...bed, for that matter, but I don't remember any of that."

. . .

"...if it helps you at all, I had a great time last night. You're a nice guy."

. . .

"How about this...we'll do it again tonight."

"Do what?"

"...sleep together."

"_Really_?"

"Christ, don't sound so excited about it..."

"Y-yeah, sure. Why, though?"

"...well...it was warm...and I didn't _hate _it, it was just a bit of a shock is all...so..."

Alfred could've leapt for joy. Another step. Though this could've been _fifty_ steps, really. This was brilliant!

"But no...sex. None of that."

"Got it. Not unless you want to."

"Alfred, that's not what-!"

Alfred laughed, enjoying the pouting face across the table.

"Kidding, kidding. Lighten up."

"Hmph..."


	8. Scared Stiff

Alfred just wanted this day to end. Not because it was going so horribly that he wanted it to be over, but because the sooner the day left, night would arrive. And when _night_ arrived, it would be time for sleeping.

And sleeping meant sleeping with Arthur. Alfred had never felt more excited in his life, except for maybe the engagement.

Actually, yes. The engagement had sleeping beaten by a long-shot.

In any case, the day needed to end _now_.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there a reason you're so antsy?"

"What do ya mean?"

Alfred was just drumming his fingers on the sofa beside Arthur, looking at the clock or window every few minutes. Hurry up, Sun! There were more pressing matters to attend to! Quit hogging the spotlight...or sunlight, whatever! They'd spent most of the day with Scampers. Both had taken their showers fairly early, and there wasn't enough small-talk in the _world_ to fill the next few hours.

"I mean, you seem rather on-edge."

"Nah, I'm cool. Don't worry."

"...if you say so."

Arthur went back to watching television. It was five o'clock in the evening...damn it! Of course it was going slower today! Or was it? Of course it was. What could kill five hours or so? Alfred didn't feel like going out tonight, and Arthur hadn't _asked_ to go anywhere. Their funds were running low anyhow; most of it had went into deposits for the wedding.

"Oh look, HBO'S free for the week."

Alfred looked up, registering Arthur's words. Really? Huh. What holiday was it where they were trying sucker more subscribers in? The fourth of July had been weeks ago.

...wait...kill a few hours...free _movie _channels...

"Let's watch a movie!"

Arthur turned and smiled, scrolling through the list of options.

"I was thinking the same thing. Now let's see...'_Eat, Pray, Love_'...absolutely not, ah...God, you'd think they'd actually put some good movies on for the people who don't already have these."

"Tell me about it. Just pick whatever."

Arthur flipped through for a few more seconds before gasping.

"Oh! This is out already? I wanted to see it! And it's just starting, too!"

Alfred blinked as the title '_Don't Be Afraid of the Dark_' was selected. Arthur _had _seen it, in theatres, with Alfred as his date. That night had been ghastly, considering he'd had to comfort the trembling American from the 'tooth-eating-fairy-demons from hell.'

But Arthur looked so excited. Who was Alfred to say he'd already seen it when, really, he hadn't?

"Sounds great."

To make it worse, Arthur got up and turned out all the lights in the house, the evening coming rapidly in the summertime now. The light from the outside was fading fast, and it wouldn't be much longer now...

And so began approximately two hours of hell. This would kill time, this would kill time, this would kill him-

_Ah_. _No_.

"...are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Alfred was only clutching the cushions, after all. And his teeth were chattering. And he'd curled himself up into a ball instinctively. And Arthur was staring at him as if he were insane.

"Perfect. Don't worry."

"...I have a feeling I _should _be worried."

"Nope. Not a problem."

. . .

"_Oh God, don't let them get me, help, please, Arthur, make 'em go awa-a-ay_!"

"...and this is why I should've been worried, isn't it?"

Arthur was currently in a death-hold by the grown man beside him, who was screaming and crying in his ear about the actions of the people on the screen. Alfred was completely terrified. Jesus, it hadn't even gotten thirty minutes in, yet.

"N-no, it's not...I'm not not scared, I just...protecting you and...safety in numbers...need a nightlight, that's all."

"Because _that _made perfect sense."

"Don't let them eat me, God, it's even worse the second time around."

Arthur's eyes flickered for a moment, taking Alfred's words in carefully.

"...we've...we've seen this before. Haven't we?"

Alfred stopped whimpering for a moment, realizing his slip-up.

"...yeah. It came out last year, and...well, you were excited about it, so...yeah. We did see it."

"Were you this scared then?"

"...no. It's worse now because I know what's gonna happen."

"But were you still doing this? Right there in the theatre?"

"No. But it was a bad night for you."

Arthur laughed quietly, amused. He sighed, ruffling Alfred's hair slightly.

"...you _are _too nice. Putting yourself through hell twice, just for me."

"I-it's not funny! This movie's scary as hell, especially when the mom-"

"Shut up, I haven't seen it! I mean...oh hell, you know what I mean."

"Sorry..."

Arthur looked from the screen to Alfred.

"...come here."

He opened his arms, gesturing for Alfred to hold him a bit less like a cobra. Alfred sniffled, looking over Arthur once before moving into his embrace, resting his head on his partner's shoulder.

Another normal moment. Arthur was even rubbing his hair and shushing him with soft words.

"Don't fret, it's just a film. These people were paid to pretend to be frightened over what were probably tennis balls on strings that they digitally altered to look _Jesus Christ_!"

Arthur shrieked and jumped in his seat, simultaneous with Alfred. The hold on each other suddenly got a lot tighter, their eyes wider as the horrific events unfolded on the screen.

"..."

"...Arthur?"

"Shut up, Alfred."

Alfred, through his fear, managed to smile.

"I forget to mention that you were scared, too."

"So you're admitting that you're scared?"

"No. 'Cause I'm not...I ain't scared..."

"Of course not, love."

. . .

"Sorry, I missed that. Huh?"

"I said, 'Of course not, love.'"

"Right."

'Love.'

'Love' was Alfred's favorite. It was natural for Arthur, being British and all. Or so he thought...but it was so nice. He missed it.

"...hey, Arthur?"

"Yes, love?"

Arthur was speaking quietly now. Maybe it was the silent moment in the movie, or maybe it was the darkness that prompted him to do so. He looked down to the blonde, still threading through his hair.

"...is something wrong?"

Alfred was unable to answer.

Arthur's eyes were bright, flickering gently from the television lights. God, he loved that green...Alfred had never seen any kind of color that even came to close to matching it. That night at Shale's, with Kiku and everyone, and Arthur...his eyes were what attracted him immediately. That deep green...beautiful...enchanting...they could be hypnotic, if he really wanted them to be.

Whatever was going on in the movie didn't matter anymore.

"...there's nothing wrong..."

Alfred's blue eyes were locked on the green above him. For whatever reason, Arthur wasnt looking away. He wasn't blushing, or blinking, he just...maintained.

Suddenly, Arthur twitched forward. It was a slight movement, but that wasn't the most noticeable about it. It had been accompanied with his eyes drifting from Alfred's eyes to his lips. Just as soon as it had happened, he receded. _There _was the blushing...the nervousness, the hesitation...

Alfred adjusted himself to sit up properly and met Arthur's lips as softly as he could, quickly. There was a small hum of surprise from the Brit before it was gone. Alfred's heart nearly soared as he felt the hands taking his shoulders, heard the small sounds of approval. He placed a hand on Arthur's cheek, pulling back slowly to look at him.

...to Arthur, that had been their first kiss. And hopefully, it had been just as good as the _first _first kiss.

"...Arthur?"

"Y-yes, Alfred?"

The two were silent. Alfred wasn't even sure what he'd been about to ask, anyway. The two just stared at each other for awhile, still in the tender embrace that differed greatly from the fearful one just moments before. Alfred ran his thumb down Arthur's cheek, smiling shakily.

"...was that...are you okay?"

"...no..."

. . .

Oh. Alfred felt his heart sink faster than a lead brick in water.

"I...I didn't mean...God, I'm-"

"I wasn't done yet."

Arthur moved forward and took Alfred's lips again, nearly toppling him. Alfred, surprised, quickly recovered and held Arthur. Held him with every ounce of affection he could muster.

"Wait, wait...Arthur, wait."

Arthur pulled away, looking more than disappointed.

"What now?"

"You haven't...I didn't buy anything, you know, so where did you-?"

Arthur kissed him again, silencing Alfred.

"I haven't had a single drop."

He ran a finger along Alfred's neck, eliciting a small shiver.

"Do I need to be drunk to enjoy you?"

"...n-no, I guess not."

Alfred didn't have to endure the rest of the movie, and Arthur never found out how it ended.

Night came soon enough, as well as a quiet request from Arthur.

"...c-can we go to bed?"

"It's only seven-thirty. You're tired already?"

"...I didn't say I was tired, did I?"

* * *

Alrighty. Just a note from me. Quite frankly, I'm not nervous about this whole taking down stories for 'porn' or 'explicit content.' My question is, though, what is explicit content? I don't write hardcore BDSM (yet. Who knows?), or rape, or anything like that. I write love scenes. Consensual, loving sex between two people in love.

That being said, I'm not nervous, but I _am_ concerned. I already have all my stories/chapters saved to my iPad, just in case I need a backup. All my stories are also posted on LJ simultaneously as they are here, so that's always an option. However...I'm not certain as to how I will handle 'smut' chapters.

I'm not giving up. I'll stay here as long as I can. However, if something were to happen, I would simply move to LJ. I go by the same username, and it's all there, as well as some of my crappier works.

Thank you all. Your continuing support and reviews and such are what keeps me from getting scared away. I love you all.


	9. Daring Darling

Scampers was peacefully asleep in the spot where Arthur and Alfred had previously been passionately locked in a kiss. The cushions were warm; he'd have been a silly animal for not jumping up there when he did. The same moment his paws were circling into the corner was the very same that his owners were quietly making their way down the hall, hand in hand.

Alfred led the way, murmuring softly into his partner's ear. Sweet nothings, kind compliments, anything that came to mind. Anything that would ease Arthur and help him feel comfortable. Gentle kisses as he opened the door, kisses that would be returned just as quickly as they'd been delivered.

"You're amazing, Arthur."

"Hush."

"Beautiful."

"Alfred..."

"Okay, okay."

The two were virtually attached at the hip, arms around each other. Arthur would kiss at Alfred any chance he got...or, at least until they reached the foot of the bed. Alfred stopped nuzzling of his lover's neck, noticing the lack of return effort. He brought Arthur's hands from his shoulders, gripping them softly.

"...are you sure? It's all you right now, Arthur. I don't mind either way."

The Brit kept his eyes on the bed. The nicely made-up sheets, comforter. The pillows even looked more perfect than normal. To think they'd just...well, would they? There _was _such a thing as...well, they probably weren't going to...but-

"Arthur. Hey. You alright?"

Alfred gently tilted Arthur's face back to him, looking him right in the eye.

"...we don't have to if you're having second thoughts. Really. I don't mind at all."

He would be mildly disappointed, but it was completely understandable.

"...I do. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't...I mean...come on."

Arthur paused for a second, kissing Alfred lightly on the nose.

"I do."

. . .

Interesting choice of words, Arthur. Interesting. Alfred kissed him back carefully, smiling into it.

"Okay."

Arthur smiled back nervously.

"O-okay."

Alfred pulled Arthur down to sit on the bed, holding their embrace, the kiss. Arthur had gotten this comfortable with him...they'd worked almost completely back to normal. The American knew that this, now, was quickly replacing normal. There couldn't be two normals.

This was Arthur now. The Arthur he'd met, loved, betrothed, lost, and found all over again. Arthur Kirkland.

He unfastened the first three or so buttons on Arthur's shirt, leaning down to kiss lightly at his collarbone. Arthur gasped sharply, clamping his mouth shut immediately. Alfred felt the tension and placed a hand on his partner's side. A comforting rub.

"...hang on. I've got a better idea. Lay on your stomach."

"_What_?"

"Nonono, not like that, geez. Just...get the rest of your shirt off and lay on your stomach."

"...may I know why?"

"I'm trying to help you. You gotta trust me, Arthur."

The Brit stared at Alfred for a long while before sighing almost silently, turning a light scarlet as he undid the remainder of buttons on his shirt. Arthur set the clothing on the floor, keeping on eye on Alfred the whole time, as if he were about to pounce.

Alfred did have to admit, seeing Arthur like this was a treat. It had been quite awhile, after all. A man could only hold back so much.

"...whatever you're going to do, be gentle."

He spoke quietly, laying on his stomach and squeezing his eyes shut.

"...Arthur. You can relax, okay? You're still half-dressed. It's not like I can do much to you like that."

Alfred sighed, moving forward to straddle Arthur just above his rear. His main focus right now was to not put too much weight on him. He took a deep breath and massaged his partner's shoulders, raising a brow at just how tense Arthur was.

"Hey, what're you doing? Don't sit like that, I can practically feel your...oh...mm...a-a bit lower, dear..."

Alfred grinned, stifling it quietly. He _knew _it. This always helped Arthur, though normally it was a teasing tactic.

He could feel Arthur practically melting in his hands. Every bit of tension all the way down his back dissolved within a few minutes. Alfred leaned to the side to glance at his partner's face, seeing it was practically at that same serenity that came with sleep.

A soft kiss was placed to the back of Arthur's neck, pulling the Brit from his serenity. It was a reminder that there was more to come after this. Much more.

"Alfred?"

"Mm?"

"...lean up a bit."

Alfred's brows furrowed, confused but obliging his partner's request. The second his body was off Arthur's, the man below turned himself over, looking red in the face and utterly petrified. Alfred took the sight in before easing himself back on, leaning down to kiss him again, holding Arthur gently.

"Now what happened to all that relaxing you just did?"

"This is different..."

Alfred kissed him again lightly before sitting up and pulling his own shirt over his head. He tossed it to the side and continued his work, loving every single sound Arthur was making. The American's hands drifted over his partner's body, enjoying every shiver, gasp...

His hands came together at the fastener of Arthur's pants, working swiftly until a third hand, Arthur's, joined the mix, stopping him. Alfred looked up, immediately concerned.

"Are you alright?"

"...I...I-I just..."

"Arthur, really, we don't have to-"

"It's not that, just...I mean...weren't you..."

Alfred sat up, moving off Arthur and sitting him up.

"Tell me. Please."

Arthur sat in silence for a moment. His hands were still in Alfred's, so...that was good. Whatever was wrong wasn't a physical problem. At least, Alfred hoped.

"...it's just...it doesn't feel right. N-not that _you're _not...ah...shit, that's not...I-"

"Arthur, _breathe_."

Arthur stopped, taking several deep breaths.

"...it just doesn't feel right...knowing that we were going to...I mean, I really admire you for it, so...I don't want to soil a promise."

"...huh?"

"Our wedding night. You said so yourself...and I've never done it with a man before...and...I'm sorry..."

. . .

Oh.

...shit. He'd said that, hadn't he? Alfred sighed, squeezing Arthur's hands. This might be the destroyer of worlds right now, but...but it had to be said.

"...um...Arthur, I...there's something you need to know..."

Alfred could feel the shift in Arthur's grip. He had his attention.

"I...I-I kinda...and don't get me wrong, this is the only time it's ever happened, I promise on everything I own, and how much I...well, that...I...I kinda lied to you..."

. . .

Arthur's hands drew away from his partner, as did the rest of him.

"...w-what're you talking about?"

Arthur's eyes. In that same moment, they had the same hue they did four days ago...the hospital. That look of fear. A total stranger was in his room, telling him they'd had a relationship...make it go away.

"...I just thought...I mean, when I told you about...about _us_, at the hospital, you seemed like...I just didn't want you to hate me..."

. . .

Arthur kept his eyes on the sheets, watching Alfred's fists curl in and out from nerves.

"...so...we've...we've had sex already, then."

"...yeah."

"How often?"

Alfred contemplated lying again right then, but decided against it.

"...I think just about every day. Unless one of us is sick...or hungry."

A blush spread across Arthur's cheeks for what might have been the hundreth time.

...so not only had he been in a deeply emotional relationship with Alfred, but a deeply physical one as well. _Every day_? God, were they rabbits? Every day sounded...incredible, really. Alfred must certainly be great if Arthur had wanted him_every da_-

Gah. No. That wasn't the point here.

"...you lied to me."

"I know. I know, and I hate it, and I'm sorry. But...I was only thinking...well, no, I guess I wasn't thinking of you..."

Alfred had been selfish. He should've told Arthur the truth. If they were truly meant for each other, then it would've happened sooner or later...instead of this.

"...I hate to say this. I _really _do, Alfred...but I don't blame you...at all, really."

Arthur sighed, taking his partner's hands and looking up with an expression one would give an regularly unruly child.

"...I can see why you'd lie. I hate to give you an excuse, because I hate lying more than anything, but...if it were me, in your place, I...well. I honestly can't say I wouldn't do the same thing. And I hope to God nothing like that ever happens."

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

"I know, dear."

Arthur hugged Alfred quickly, kissing his shoulder before pulling back.

"Now, I feel, inclined to ask. Is that it?"

"Yes. No more lies. There aren't anymore, and there won't _be _anymore. Ever again."

"Good."

. . .

"So...we've done it."

"...yeah."

"So then why are you nervous? I'm...I'm not bad or something, am I?"

"What? _No_...Jesus, _God_ no, you're _incredible_."

Alfred realized right away that that wasn't the best way to introduce someone to the idea of intercourse. Arthur was stiff as a board and red as a cherry.

"Sorry, I...I mean, I know for you, right now, it's...it's kinda like our first time again."

"...oh. Well...yes, I suppose that's...reasonable."

Arthur cleared his throat.

"Well. Um...we're...we're already here...so-"

"Are you sure?"

"...yes."

"I want you to be one-hundred perce-"

"_Yes_, Alfred, I want to have sex with you, right now, in this bed. Shall I state the address?"

"...no, babe. That'll do."

. . .

"A-Alfred...I don't-"

"Ssh, it's okay...it alright, doll. Remember what...I said about relaxing?"

"But I...Alfred..."

"D-don't think about anything else, just...keep your eyes on me. Okay?"

"...ah..._ah_..._fuck_..."

"Arthur?"

"I-I'm...it's fine, keep...m-more. Please."

"Got it, babe."

"W-why're you...are you...s-stop nipping my leg..."

"It'll feel good, I promise. Was it lower...?"

"A-Alfred enough nonsense, please, just...ah, God, _harder_, _bite it if you're going to bite it_!"

"Arthur, relax."

"Mm...f-feels..."

"I know, doll. Put your arms around me."

"...darling...please..."

"Just hold me, it's alright."

"...o-oh God..._oh God_..."

"Go ahead. It's okay, Arthur."

"..._Alfred_..."

"Fuck, Arthur..."

. . .

"...a-are you okay?"

. . .

"Arthur?"

. . .

"...there's no way you're asleep...Arthur? Arthur!"

. . .

Alfred lay beside his partner and kissed him delicately, feeling exhaustion come fast.

"I love you, Arthur. More than anything."


	10. Battle of the Sex

Arthur had been awake for about twenty minutes, yet he wasn't moving. His eyes were on Alfred, but his partner had yet to rise from slumber.

Arthur had woken twenty minutes ago, wrapped in the American's arms like a stuffed toy. He had been holding Alfred the same way, chest to chest, their legs intertwined in a strange but comfortable tangle.

He felt rather bad for Alfred. Hopefully he wasn't a cuddler, because Arthur had certainly missed the post-sex typical 'cuddling.' Damn it, that had never happened before...not that he'd had so much sex that he'd know, but...maybe because it was his first time with a man? Yes, that was-

...but it wasn't. Damn it!

"I'm sorry, love. I'll make up for it"

Arthur whispered softly, kissing Alfred's forehead just as lightly to keep from waking him.

...that...had been wonderful. A bit heavy of the sweet side (the Brit could handle a bit of unnecessary roughness), but Alfred had been perfect. It was as if he'd known everything about him, every place to touch, every single way to make-

...ah. Right. That explained it.

Well, nevertheless, Arthur was quite satisfied, in more ways than one. Sexually, yes. Without a doubt. However, he also felt that life itself was starting to look up. Alfred may have felt accomplished in getting Arthur to trust him all over again (as he should be), but Arthur felt accomplished in recovering nearly everything he'd lost. Certainly, he'd never get back those precious days, showing off Alfred to his parents, the scary nights and...hell. He'd never get their engagement back. But this was a start.

Alfred was with him. A kind, good-natured man who loved him quite a bit. Probably one of the only decent souls left on Earth.

Everything felt right with the world.

Arthur heard a small scratching on the door. Alfred must've pieced that together, too, as he began to stir.

"Wha's...but it's daytime, they can't get our teeth _now_..."

Arthur smiled, watching the blonde roll over and go back to sleep. He grabbed a clean pair of boxers from the drawer, as well as one of Alfred's shirts, and left the room to make everyone breakfast. Everyone, including what he assumed to be the hungry puppy at the door.

...eh...he wasn't terribly hungry at the moment, anyway. Arthur made Scampers a quick bowl of dog food and let him outside in the backyard to play before returning to the bedroom, crawling back into bed slowly.

"Don' let 'em ge'me..."

Alfred sounded frightened, trembling a bit under the sheets. Arthur made a small hushing sound and pulled the blanket back over the two of them, holding his partner close. At the same time, he placed Alfred's arms back around him...for symmetry, of course.

"They won't get you darling. It's a film, remember?"

"Arthur..."

"Yes, yes, I'm here. Relax. I won't let you get hurt, darling. Look up. Do you see the stage lights?"

"...y-yeah..."

"Hush love, it's alright."

Arthur watched as Alfred's worried features vanished, replaced with soft peacefulness.

"...love you."

. . .

"I love you, too, dear."

. . . . .

Several more hours passed before Alfred actually awoke. What was it, eleven? Arthur was gonna _kill_ hi-

...oh. Well, he guessed not, considering he was still here. When had he gotten dressed? Had they been holding each other like this all night? Arthur had gone out like a light after...

Alfred tried to fight a small burst of pride. One that was telling him that he was such a good lover that it blew people's minds.

He smiled at the sleeping man next to him, kissing him lightly.

"Morning."

. . .

When that didn't work, Alfred decided to do it again, only a bit longer. Arthur made a small noise, prompting him to stop and let the Brit wake up on his own.

"...Alfred?"

"Morning."

"...mm. Morning."

Alfred chuckled as his partner closed his eyes and moved closer to him, keeping his embrace strong.

"What are you doing?"

"...not cuddling."

Was that defensiveness Alfred heard?

"I didn't think you were."

"Good...'cause I'm not."

And again, tighter still. Alfred laughed, squeezing Arthur gently.

"You big sap. You don't have to feel bad."

Arthur looked up, pouting.

"Feel bad about what? I don't feel bad, why would I? I fell asleep because I wanted to, not because you were-"

Alfred grinned devilishly, kissing the top of Arthur's head before he could finish.

"Mind-blowing?"

"The hell is that look for? No, it's not because...well...it _was _good...and...you certainly-..hey wait, quit trying to weasel out of this!"

"Out of _what_?"

Arthur was flustered and mad, the exact opposite of Alfred. How could someone be so cute and angry all at once?

"...shut up."

He buried himself in the Alfred's chest, hiding his face. Alfred smiled, threading his fingers through Arthur's disheveled hair.

"Okay, okay...but you don't have to feel bad."

. . .

"I'll just try not to be as _awesome _next time."

"_Alfred_!"

. . . . .

After the two finally emerged from their chamber, the exceptionally good day with exceptionally good moods began. Alfred felt relieved for the first time in awhile, both physically and mentally. Sex. Obstacle down. Now to just accomplish love...saying it when Arthur was awake. Or sober.

Not to mention the night before had awakened _quite_ the beast in Arthur. After breakfast, he'd smacked Alfred's rear end playfully with a spatula before placing it in the dishwasher, without looking so much as bothered. A few hours after that, it was quiet necking on the sofa, something hadn't ended too well considering that Alfred was playing Xbox at the same time. Later it was dinner. Arthur had snuck up behind his partner and pinched his ass, laughing a bit when the yelp of surprise came.

Alfred enjoyed every last second of the attention, particularly now, as the two were watching some mundane program about the making of some film. Neither of them were even paying attention anymore; Arthur was far too busy twirling Alfred's hair between his fingers and whispering into his ear, and Alfred was far too wrapped up in...Arthur.

"Please? I promise I won't."

Arthur was begging. _Begging. _Alfred couldn't help but tease.

"I dunno...passing out's not good, Arthur."

"I won't, really! It was just...well, I...I don't know actually."

The Brit stopped, looking down at the floor in thought.

"Has...has that ever happened before?"

Alfred shook his head.

"Nope. So, really, I am kinda actually concerned."

"Oh...well maybe it was a fluke? Please?"

Alfred looked over to his pleading partner, looking over him. Fainting had never happened before, and there was just the smallest inkling...deep back in his mind..._was_ it a fluke? Or was it something deep in _Arthur's _mind that...?

God. Was that possible?

"Alfred?"

Arthur snapped his fingers in front of Alfred's face, wondering why he'd suddenly zoned out. The American came back, dismissing the idea.

"...uh...well, I haven't showered yet, so-"

"We take one together?"

"What? _No_, that's not...no, Arthur, really just...hit the brakes on your sex drive, okay?"

. . .

Maybe the fainting wasn't his main concern, but the physicality of all this. Arthur was normally rather...charged. Old Arthur, anyway. Though not quite as desperate; he'd find ways of getting what he wanted, and it worked. It worked _beautifully_. But that had been long after...well...

"...Arthur, how do you feel about me?"

Arthur's eyes widened, brows furrowing. Alfred sounded scared...not like last night, but genuinely frightened. Of what? Judgement?

And how was he supposed to answer that? He liked Alfred. He _really _liked Alfred...but to say he loved him...yes, he'd said it earlier today, but-

...Arthur felt safe with Alfred. Cared for...respected...admired. Arthur certainly admired _him_. Alfred was strong...funny, in an odd kind of way that was amusing. He wouldn't lie, the American was _damn _good-looking...but that certainly wasn't number one on the long, long list of The Amazing Attributes of Alfred.

. . .

To Arthur, it hadn't even been a week, but...his mind had sealed away three years of this. A beautiful relationship.

...maybe to say he loved him wouldn't be too much of a stretch. And that was what Alfred wanted, right?

"I...I think you're...nice. And friendly."

Arthur's words weren't piecing together as nicely as his mind. Damn it. Alfred looked even more worried. Stop it! That expression didn't suit him at all!

"...nice and friendly?"

Alfred sounded dejected. Those sounded like the sorts of things you said to a person before you broke up. Something with the words 'but it's just not working out' following after.

He spoke softly, keeping his eyes on the cushion covers.

"...it's okay."

'I love you.' Would that even work if Arthur didn't feel the same way? It was looking more and more like last night had been a mistake. Alfred wasn't a...a booty-call, or something.

"...I'm gonna go shower, okay?"

Alfred got up, surprising Arthur. Damn it! This hadn't gone well at all, had it?

"...alright. I'll...be here, then."

The door of the bathroom clicked shut. Arthur sighed, curling his knees on the couch and laying gently on the armrest. Scampers appeared, whimpering softly for attention. Arthur gave the puppy a half-smile before lifting him up into his lap, petting the animal gently.

"...I don't know, Scampers. Should I tell him? I mean...he must love me, right? Or else I wouldn't be here...right? He wouldn't have spent so much time with me otherwise."

The animal looked up curiously as his owner, jumping to lick his face. Arthur laughed, settling the dog down.

"I _definitely_ love _you_, dear."

. . .

"You know what, I will. I'm going to do it, lovely. What have I got to lose?"

. . .

"Actually, a whole lot...don't I?"

He held the dog close, sighing deeply.

"...I've got a whole lot to lose..."


	11. Collection of Thoughts

I would like to apologize in advance for what I know is my shortest chapter to date. Today was rather busy, and well, I'm just glad to have something for you guys. I promise, the next two chapters (which are also the last chapters) will make up for this one, both in length and in quality. Forgive me. OTL

* * *

"So...I've been doing a bit of thinking, and...Alfred, I just need you to know this, alright? Please don't interrupt."

Arthur took a deep breath, raising his eyes.

"What I said earlier...I was confused, and...stuttering. But right now, I'm not. So...well, of course I'm not now, I mean, I'm speaking quite well, but-"

. . .

He was getting off-track. Again. Arthur huffed and locked eyes with the man in front of him.

"Ah, damn it. Alfred...I...I-I think you're amazing. You've done more for me in less than a week than anyone ever has my entire life. You helped me adjust, you're patient...and kind. Other people would have probably cut and run after something like...well...the point is, you didn't. And I hope I'm right in how I believe you to feel about me."

"...which...with that being said..."

. . .

"I love you. I mean...no, I don't mean anything different! I love you. I want nothing more than to make another three years of memories with you, and a hundred more after that...I want to stay with you, Alfred. Forever."

. . .

There was no response, as Arthur was speaking to a mirror. Alfred was still in the shower. Arthur sighed, looking over to the bed. Scampers was watching his owner with a quiet curiosity.

"I don't know. Did that sound alright to you?"

The puppy yipped, hopping off the mattress and skittering out the door.

"...thanks for the input..."

. . .

Shower exchange went quietly, without much eye contact or words. Alfred slipped out, announced that there was still enough hot water, and went to get changed into some night clothes. Arthur, who had returned to the sofa after his practice confession session, sighed and got up to wash, closing the door behind him with an extra click of the lock.

Alfred took his place on the sofa, deep in thought.

...this...wasn't a waste of time. He needed to push that out of his head right this instant. Arthur would never, in a million years, be a waste if time. Even if he wasn't exactly reciprocating.

Hell, it hadn't even been a week! Alfred couldn't expect results that quickly! So they'd had sex. Big whoop. Sex didn't equal love...at least, not to this Arthur. He'd...they'd sort of been each other's first. Arthur's first man, and Alfred's first in general. He'd only ever had sex with Arthur, and even then, after three years, having sex had become making love...

...okay. Maybe the fact they'd slept together meant quite a good deal to Alfred. For awhile, he'd managed to believe that everything was the way it should have been. That Arthur had fallen back in love with him...after not even a full week. God, Alfred was stupid.

The American groaned, laying back on the couch, a hand over his face. He felt exhausted...

A soft sound cut through his thoughts, a whine. Alfred looked down, seeing Scampers pacing in front of the sofa, wanting attention.

"Hey, boy. Come on up."

Alfred raised the dog up to the cushions, smiling gently as the dog rolled over its back.

"You know, you're lucky you're a dog. You don't have to worry about...anything, huh? 'Cept being fed. And loved. We love you like crazy, boy. Yes we do."

He scratched Scampers on the stomach, laughing as the puppy's leg began kicking.

"...you don't ever have to worry about people loving you. If something happened to us, you'd find a good home again. Look at you. Hell, if Arthur lost his memory again, and I did too somehow, I think we'd still find you all over again."

The dog flipped over suddenly and whined, moving toward Alfred's face to lick his chin. Alfred laughed again and cradled the dog close. His features softened, giving the dog a small kiss between it's ears.

"...yeah. Yeah, we would, wouldn't we? We'd find you and love you all over again. Of course we would."

. . .

"Alfred?"

Arthur poked his head out of the bathroom. He'd had the idea of bringing clothes to change into the bathroom so he wouldn't have to go about the house in a towel. He stepped out in his pajamas (his own, and not one of Alfred's t-shirts like he'd been planning) and spoke again, his voice low.

"I'm going to head on to bed, alright?"

"'Kay."

...''kay.' Not even the full word. Arthur held back a sigh and shuffled to the chamber, managing a smile when he head the familiar skittering following him in. Of course this time, Arthur was in the guest bedroom.

"Are you here to keep me company, darling?"

The Brit scooped up Scampers, who curled up tightly in Arthur's arms, making small, distressed whimpers. Arthur's smile fell as he sat on the bed, stroking the puppy's soft fur.

"...so you're one of those animals, huh? Yes...you're right. Your owners are rather..."

He couldn't think of how to finish that sentence, sighing lightly and placing the dog in between the pillows. The animal circled about four times before settling, keeping his eyes on Arthur.

"...we're something, dear. I just don't know what we are, yet. But that doesn't mean _you_ should be somber."

Arthur lay back, staring at the ceiling. He'd much rather be with Alfred, in Alfred's bed, in Alfred's arms...instead he was here. Alone. Again. All over again. He turned on his side, his eyes falling on an object that he'd almost forgotten had existed until this very moment.

He sat up, fiddling with the engagement ring that for the past week had done nothing but sit on the nightstand, gathering dust. It was beautiful...golden, with a smooth finish. He traced his finger along it lightly, admiring the equally smooth finish, both outside and-

. . .

Actually, the inside felt rather knobby. Arthur turned on the lamp, holding the ring under the light and truly examining it.

_Forever and Always_

...an engraving. How had he not noticed that the first time, in the hospital? _Forever and always_. That sounded more powerful than 'I love you.' Or 'I do.' Or...God, anything. Arthur certainly wouldn't have thought of it.

Alfred had. _He'd_ thought of it, and he'd thought of it for him...for Arthur.

But _why_? What the hell was so special about Arthur that it was worth all of this? What did Alfred see in him?

. . .

Arthur didnt know why he felt compelled to do it, but he slipped the ring onto his finger. Perfect fit.

"...forever...and always."


	12. Catch and Release

...And apparently Alfred had failed so much as a partner that Arthur was repulsed by him. So they'd be sleeping alone tonight. Again. The American looked into his own room, seeing that it was unoccupied, then to the closed door across the hall. Scampers had followed Arthur, hadn't he?

Alfred peeked into the guest bedroom, the light from the hall falling directly on Arthur's sleeping face. Upon opening the door further, Scampers came into view, tucked gently near the Brit's stomach. Alfred put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing even in the slightest as he stepped in and sat at the edge of the bed. He pet the dog lightly, doing his best not to wake it or Arthur.

"You're being a good boy, sweetie. If it can't be be me, I'm glad it's you that's making him happy."

The American's eyes swept up to Arthur. His partner's face didn't appear calm as it normally did when he slept. The furrowed brow, the deadest frown...was he having a nightmare? It looked like he'd been sweating a good deal...or maybe crying?

No. Arthur couldn't have been crying. Why the hell would he have been crying? It was July, after all. Probably just sweat. Alfred reached over and felt Arthur's forehead...getting no moisture whatsoever.

...that only left...

In less than a week, he'd made Arthur cry twice. The only time before the accident had been the engagement. Arthur wasn't a crier. Meaning when he did, it was due to some severe emotions, whether pent-up or spur of the moment.

Nevertheless, Alfred was responsible for this. He _had _to have been.

"...I'm sorry, Arthur."

He kissed his Brit's forehead, taking Arthur's hand gently. The American sat there in the dark awhile, apologizing, running his thumb across his partner's hand, his fingers.

. . .

...what on earth was that? That cold spot that felt-

Before Alfred even questioned himself, he nearly knocked over the lamp trying to turn it on. Light immediately filled the room, making Arthur wince. Alfred froze, realizing his mistake and breathing a sigh of relief when his partner ignored it. Shit, that would've been bad. Arthur, waking up to Alfred watching him in his sleep? Brilliant, _that _would get him running back.

...but he had been right. That feeling, he'd recognized it. Alfred had felt it, every night and day for three months.

. . .

But why? Why in God's name was Arthur wearing it? Was it just...had he been curious to see if it fit and forgot to take it off? That didn't make any sense! Nothing was making sense. Arthur was acting one way and then doing another. He chose to sleep alone, away from Alfred, yet to wear something that virtually made him seem closer to the American. He was begging for sex one minute, and then not even speaking to Alfred the next.

Alfred decided enough was enough. He stood carefully from the mattress, switching off the lamp and making his leave. He watched the light slim on Arthur's face until it was gone, the door fully shut.

"...what do you want me to do?"

. . . . .

It was the scent of bacon that woke Arthur, signaling either morning or the strangest midnight snack craving he could imagine. Judging from the light outside, he decided that the former made more sense. His door was open, and Scampers was gone. Alfred must've opened it to let him out, the poor thing.

...Alfred.

Arthur yawned. Alfred had woken up before him? How strange. No matter; hunger was calling...

...not that Alfred didn't matter, of course.

He rose from the bed, rubbing an eye as he went to join his partner in the dining room.

. . .

"Morning."

There was a small clatter as Alfred dropped a fork, surprised by the sudden greeting.

"Morning."

Alfred's eyes immediately went to Arthur's hand...yes, he was still wearing it. Had he forgotten? Or...was it more sinister than that?

No. Arthur wasn't like that at all. Why had Alfred even thought that?

"That smells good...did you make tea?"

"Your mug's next to mine."

Alfred gestured behind him on the counter. One blue mug filled with coffee sat next to a green one brimming with piping Earl Grey. Arthur's favorite.

"Thank you."

Alfred watched Arthur out if the corner if his eye. The Brit seemed to like it...Alfred had never been able to get the brew _just _right, but maybe today...?

"Have you been up long?"

"Nah. I let the dog out 'cause he was whining...did you sleep okay?"

The American set their plates down lightly so as not to make a good deal of noise, watching Arthur warily. His partner hesitated before having another drink of tea.

"Decent."

...should he even bring it up? Alfred thought it was rather important...more than just important, actually. Life-altering. Arthur was wearing his engagement ring, for Christ's sake. That seemed a little important, when one took into consideration the amount of nonsense the two had been put through.

Alfred blurted. An awful blurt. It wasn't even a question.

"You're wearing your ring."

As if it weren't obvious. Arthur nearly choked on the tea, hitting his chest to shake the liquid from his windpipe.

"_Are you okay_?"

"F-fine, just..."

Arthur hacked a bit before regaining his ability to breathe properly. He spoke hoarsely, still winded. Shit, he was still wearing it, wasn't he? Damn it! _Damn it_!

"I...I-I was just...before I fell asleep, I...I mean..."

_I'm sorry if I hurt you. That's the last thing I'd ever want to do._

"I mean...it was getting sort of...dusty...and...a-and I..."

_The truth is, I love you. I feel safe when I'm with you, like nothing could ever go wrong so long as you're by my side._

"...I...it's not like..."

_I love you, Alfred._

"...I'm sorry_..."_

Arthur fell silent. There was nothing he could say right now. Nothing at all. He watched as Alfred's eyes fell away from him and down to the the coffee on the table.

"...I'm...I'm sorry, too."

Breakfast was eaten in silence from that point on. The two washed their plates and, without many other options, sat on the sofa, the television on but going unwatched. Not being interpreted, anyway.

. . .

"...you're not obligated, you know."

Arthur looked up to the sudden voice, over to Alfred.

"Come again?"

"We're not married. And...you're not engaged."

...what the hell was he talking about? Was this about the ring? Oh, who was Arthur fooling, of course it was! Arthur laughed nervously, twisting the metal around his finger.

"What are you talking about? Of course I-"

"No, you're not."

Arthur froze, falling dead silent as Alfred continued to speak.

"...Arthur, I'm not mad at you for this. I could never be mad at you. If anything it's my..."

. . .

"...I don't want you to feel like you're..._supposed _to be with me. Because...really, you don't have to be of you don't want to. I get it. It's your life. You have a whole world out there, and if you don't remember the past three years, there's a whole lot more to discover. If anything...I've been holding you back."

...what? What was this? Why was Alfred saying this?

"I guess what I'm saying is that...I don't want to keep you in the dark...I love you, Arthur. So I'm letting you go."

. . .

Oh God. Both the greatest and worst words had just been spoken. Arthur's eyes widened yet his heart sank like a stone. Oh _God_.

"Alfred, I-"

"Arthur, no. It's okay."

"But I-"

"Please don't say anything."

Now he'd stopped looking at Arthur altogether.

"...I'm gonna run to the store. If you're not here when I get back...I understand."

Alfred got up, leaving a completely stunned and bewildered Arthur on the sofa. The Brit's mouth was agape, closing only after he heard the sound of engine revving away.

. . .

"...idiot..."

Arthur got up, moving about the house at a frantic pace.

"...fucking _idiot_!"

Alfred loved him, and yet he was doing this to him? Arthur loved Alfred, and yet the Brit couldn't even _say_ the goddamn words? They were both idiots! Absolute fucking _idiots_!

"...I love you, Alfred."

The empty silence was deafening. Arthur felt the tears fall quietly.

"...son of a bitch...you keep _doing _shit like this..."

Arthur wiped his eyes furiously, glaring at the floor.

...fuck this. Fuck _all _of this. The Brit stopped, making his way calmly to the kitchen and rummaging through one of their miscellaneous drawers. There had to be a piece of paper in here somewhere...

If he was going to do this the way Alfred wanted, then he was at least going to leave a note.


	13. The Good Life

"Papa!"

Quick footsteps pounded through the house, past the sofa where a fat, aged Corgi lay. Blonde pigtails fluttered until they came to rest, their owner waving something frantically at the man preparing dinner in the kitchen.

"Papa! Look what I found!"

Arthur looked over from the simmering pan to the sheet of paper his daughter was flapping. After a double-take, he stopped, smiling as he took it from her hands.

"Where did you find this, dear?"

"I was hiding from Scampers in the closet and it fell."

"...of course you were."

Arthur scanned over the paper, features softening. He remembered writing this...what had it been, five years? Six?

"My God...and it still looks new."

"What is it, what does it say? I tried reading it, but there were too many big words."

"Well I'm almost glad you couldn't read it. Some of these things aren't exactly good for your young eyes to be reading."

"_Papa_! Are there bad words on there?"

"No. Not really. Come on, I want to tell you a story."

Arthur picked up the four-year-old and carried her into the living room, plopping her down on the sofa next to Scampers. The little girl took to the animal immediately, cuddling up with it. She'd known him all her life, after all.

"What's the story?"

"A new one."

Arthur laughed at the wonder sparkling in her eyes. Precious little thing, she was.

"Tell me, tell me!"

"...well. It started with a car accident. You know Papa's always telling you that driving is a serious responsibility?"

The girl nodded, her pigtails bobbing.

"There were two people. And they were very, _very_ much in love. Those people got into an accident, and all of a sudden, one of them didn't remember the other anymore. The forgetful one didn't remember their love, or their fun times together, or anything at all. The one who remembered became very sad, and he tried his very best to get his true love to come back to him, but nothing worked. It seemed like the person had lost them forever."

Scampers whined in the girl's arms, and the girl herself stuck out her lower lip.

"Papa, is this a sad story? 'Cause I don't wanna cry."

"Listen to the rest before jumping to conclusions, dear. Well, after a few days, something amazing happened. Soon after, the people believed in each other again, and-"

"What happened?"

. . .

"When you're older, darling. Anyway, here's where everything goes _crazy_. The one who remembered loved the forgetful one, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"And as it turned out...the forgetful one, just like he was always meant to, fell right back in love all over again, but he couldn't say it. He couldn't tell the one he loved how he truly felt about them."

The girl pouted again, hugging Scampers tighter. The dog had had several years to get used to this, and didn't react.

"That's so sad..."

"Yes. And what made it worse was that the one who remembered thought that the forgetful one _didn't_ love him. Or even _like_ him anymore! Which was just plain not true. It wasn't his fault, though; every time the forgetful one would open his mouth to confess his feelings, nothing but blah blah blah's would come out. The one who remembered was right, but also very wrong to think that they weren't loved back...so...he left the forgetful one. He was rather-

"No! Why would he leave his true love? Papa, I don't want a sad story! The forgetful one shoulda just said it! Like this; I love you, Scampers. It's easy!"

"Angela, I'm not done yet. He left to go to the _store_. And when came back, he found this note that the forgetful one wrote. And now _you've_ found it, dear."

The poor dog was getting an armful, the girl's anticipation reaching sky-high levels.

"Read it, read it, _read it_!"

Arthur read over it again in his head, sighing quietly. This was really bringing up a trip down memory lane...and he thought he'd lost it ages ago. He opened his mouth, ready to verbally edit whatever was necessary. Before he could begin, there was the sound of a door opening.

"I'm home!"

"_Daddy_!"

Both the girl and Scampers leaped off the sofa, tackling the blonde man who'd come in the front door. Arthur turned on the sofa, smiling at the display. His family, happy and laughing.

"I didn't hear you pull up."

"I got the brakes fixed, remember? No more screeching!"

"Oh, that's good. Where's _my_ kiss?"

The Brit grinned as he was approached, receiving a kiss from his partner.

"Daddy, Papa was telling me a sad story!"

"It is _not_ a sad story, if you would just let me finish it! Goodness...she gets her impatience from _you_, you know."

Arthur prodded Alfred's chest, handing the note over to his husband. He murmured quietly as their daughter played with Scampers.

"She found this in the closet. So I started telling her about how we met."

"Aw, man! I thought we lost this!"

"Papa, are you gonna finish the story?"

"Yes, dear, of course, and Daddy's going to help me."

"He knows, too?"

Alfred sat down beside her, speaking and twirling Angela's pigtails around until she giggled.

"I know the story _very_ well. Okay. How far did Papa get?"

"The one who remembered found the note that I found. I think the one who remembered is silly. If you love someone, you're not supposed to leave! That's dumb!"

Alfred raised a brow, watching as Arthur tried not to laugh out loud.

"Her opinion, not mine."

Alfred sighed, smiling as he loosened his work tie and continued.

"Anyway, he found that note you're holding. The forgetful one was outside, waiting...and do you know why?"

"Why?"

"...because the forgetful one was sad. And he told the one who remembered just what you said, how silly he was, and how that wasn't what he was supposed to do. Only a bit meaner. Probably a lot meaner then he should have been."

Angela giggled, covering her mouth to keep from getting too loud. Arthur rolled his eyes, half-smiling.

"Get on with it, darling."

"Okay, okay. Well...the forgetful one loved him. He loved him very much, and he finally managed to tell him. Then the one who remembered started to cry because he was so happy, and then the forgetful one told him to stop, but guess what? _He_ was crying, too. They were both so happy, and in love again, and they got married, just like they were always supposed to. And a few years later...they adopted a baby girl."

"And she had the most _beautiful_ golden hair in _all_ the world."

Arthur picked up on the story, twiddling with Angela's pigtails. The parents tried not to laugh as their daughter's face twisted, piecing it all together.

"...hey, wait a minute! Is this story about you guys?"

"No _way_!"

"_Heavens_ no."

There was a small ding, announcing that dinner was ready. Angela's small attention span didn't call for much more, as she was suddenly carrying her pet Corgi into the kitchen. Arthur and Alfred remained on the sofa for a bit longer, smiling as their daughter made her exit.

"...what do you wanna do with the note?"

Alfred put an arm around his husband, his eyes fixed on the scrap of paper. Arthur plucked it from his hands and scanned over it.

"We ought to frame it. We can put it next to the photos in our room."

Alfred nodded, agreeing with Arthur's idea.

"Sounds good, doll."

"Don't call me doll. I've always hated it when you call me doll."

"_Forever_ and always?"

Arthur stared at home for a bit before sputtering into a laugh.

"...I still think you're a git."

"I know ya do."

The two laughed quietly, sharing a kiss. Eternal happiness had been achieved. Nothing could touch the two; five years after the accident, and life was beautiful. A family. Love. What more could they ever need?

"_Papa_! _The stove's on fire_!"

The house was filled with the sounds of shouts and barks, as well as a screeching fire alarm, for the next ten minutes. After that, it was laughter. It looked as if they would be going out to eat yet again this week.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

_Dear Alfred,_

_You are an insufferable git._

_You're impatient, and try to speak when others are speaking, and you jump to conclusions that don't make a damn bit of sense. How could you ever think I'd want to leave? How do you actually expect me to believe that you want me gone? After you said what might be the most important words I could ever hear?_

_You idiot._

_...I love you. I may not be able to say it to your face, but I do. I love you, Alfred. When I'm with you, I feel complete. And I keep wondering why. Why do you love me? Why did you want to waste your life with me, when it seemed like it had all been ripped away from you? Maybe I'm just hard-wired to accept our relationship, but...quite honestly, I can't ever stop thinking about you. You're wonderful. I feel safe with you...as I write this, I wonder if these are things I've spoken of before. I certainly hope so. If anything...you're the greatest man I could ever want. And I all want is to be with you. To stay by your side through thick and thin..better or worse...I want to be married to you. Arthur Kirkland-Jones, or Jones-Kirkland...hell, I'll even drop my last name for you, darling._

_I've made up the guest bedroom, as I have no intention of ever sleeping there again._

_Alfred, if you love me, then please meet me in the backyard. I love you, and there's something I want to ask you._

_With More Love than I Ever Thought I Could Muster,_

_Arthur Kirkland_

* * *

And so ends 'System Crash.' Thank you all for reading, so much. Every single one of you were fantastic, and I loved reading all the reviews. Please allow me a few days and I'm sure I'll have another one coming soon!


End file.
